


The Vanishing of Amara Potter

by LookBeyondReality



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Female Harry Potter, Female Protagonist, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Past Rape/Non-con, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookBeyondReality/pseuds/LookBeyondReality
Summary: Lord Voldemort likes beautiful things, so he steals them and makes them his. Whether they be cups, lockets or teenage witches. Amarantha loves many things, but being abducted is not one of them.FemHarry/Voldemort(TomRiddle) M for future smut and explicitness.SLight mentions of Stockholm Syndrom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the Harry Potter Characters.

Dudley's Birthday turned out to be on a beautiful day. The kind that most people would use to have a small picnic in the garden and bless the fact that they had no work or further obligations waiting for them.

It was on the 23 of June that Amarantha Leona Potter-Black vanished.

The previous hours had gone by like usual, the young, 15-year-old girl breaking a sweat in the garden, taking care of her aunt's precious flowerbeds.  
Wasn't it funny that the matriarch of the Dursley's deemed it necessary to have nearly all of the common British and European flowers, but she always rather aggressively refused to have Lilies, as they were the type of blossoms that were too ugly to belong to her front garden?  
As a child, Amara found it bizarre, but as a teen, she could understand better.  
Not everyone could be like Lily Potter.

But as this was not a time of contemplation, which she was reminded of when her Aunt's shrill, glass-breaking voice rang through the house, so the witch went to help her in the kitchen to prepare a decent meal for the small family. Who was she kidding? She was forced to prepare so much for darling dudders birthday, that the table actually groaned under the weight of the plates, casseroles, salads and fat-rich snacks.

When she was released of this chore, thankfully her relatives hadn't seen the need to hear her singing that dreadful happy birthday song, she planned to relax in her room and get started on the potions essay that was due for the next school year.  
She disappeared in the middle of the stairway.

Of course, the Dursleys hadn't thought to alert anyone, least of all the guards the order of the Pheonix had placed in front of their house, thinking that the teen had run away again, and kept on with their insignificant lives, happily forgetting about the teenage girl that had been put in their care, and that they had abused without a second guess.

Due to this fact, the disappearance was only discovered on the 31 of July, when the Order of the Pheonix had gone to pick her up to celebrate the 16th Birthday of their Saviour.

They searched high and low for the girl, dispatching Wizards and Witches all around the globe to find even a clue as to her whereabouts. None were found, and slowly, they lost hope.

Amarantha Potter was declared missing on the 15th of October.


	2. Chapter 1 -  The Devils Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara tries to discover where she is, and why she was taken, without much success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of the Harry Potter Characters.

Amara woke up to the sound of footsteps approaching her, and Though she couldn't remember having fallen asleep, she knew instantly that something was very wrong.

No-one in the Dursley household approached her during her sleep, Aunt Petunia would either bang her bony fist against the door like the police in the telly was prone to do, and Uncle Vernon would just scream at her at the top of his lungs to wake her up.

Dudley... just didn't wake her up. Ever.

So, Amara knew that she was no longer in Privet Drive Nr. 4.

Or if she was, the Dursleys had vanished and bought a soft mattress for her to sleep on and changed her into a soft shirt and jeans that actually fit her petite frame.

Feigning sleep was one of her best qualities, so the young Potter kept her eyes shut, and her ears open for any suspicious sounds that might clue her in to her whereabouts.

The footsteps had stopped during her inner monologue. Stopped next to her as a matter of fact, and she felt the heavy presence of someone watching her.

There was a dip in the mattress, slow deliberate movements meant not to wake her.

The girl forced herself to lay still, and at that moment, a sliver of fear entered her heart and she felt like a small mouse awaiting execution from a snake.

A hand on top of her head and a small pleased sigh from the other person.

"I know you're awake."

Amara nearly jumped out of her skin at the deep male voice who had whispered this in her ear, and she felt her heart freeze.

She knew this voice. She knew it very well because it sometimes haunted her in her dreams.

Tom Riddle.

Voldemort.

He chuckled, and she finally opened her eyes to be greeted by his face, who was a mere inch away from hers, his eyes red full of mocking satisfaction.

For the first time since the beginning of the Summer, she felt genuine terror, and Amara shuffled away from him, only to realize that he had counted on this action.

In a second his hand was around her wrist, the grip so tight that she felt her hand go numb.

"There's no need for that love, I'm not going to bite you," he said, as he approached her even more, his movements scaring her more and making her fight against his steel grip.

"Perhaps you won't bite me, but you'll definitely kill me. And I'm not your love."

He must have seen something in her eyes, an irritated expression crossing his face before settling on merriment again.

Voldemort sighed and let go of her wrist.

Like a wounded animal, the teenage witch cradled her hurting hand to her chest, pure fear and adrenaline the only things that kept her from vomiting on the bed.

"Why- What-... Where are we?" After some stuttering, Amara finally decided on the question she meant to ask, and Voldemort's face (A pretty face, she was surprised to find, not the scaled, snakelike one he had worn since his resurrection) looked unimpressed at her eloquence.

"We are home, little girl."

"This isn't my home. Where are we?" She asked again, and Voldemort rolled his eyes slightly.

"It is starting from today. To save you from asking any more unnecessary questions, I will tell you some things in advance."

He stood up, his body towering over hers, and Amara felt like she was going to burst into tears. First, Dumbledore had decreed that none of her friends and loved ones could write her during the whole summer for safety reasons and that she wouldn't be allowed to spend the end of the holiday at the Weasley's.

Then that bastard had found a way to take her despite all the Headmasters talk of the Blood Wards.

"I took you from that horrendously mundane place you call home and have brought you here, to the family estate.

Now, I am telling you this, because I would very much dislike any escape attempts. I am trusting you with a little bit of information.

Now, you are here because I want you to be. You're mine, and that the end of that discussion. This means that I will not kill you, or harm you in any way. You will not return to Hogwarts or any other School for that matter, on September 1st. You will stay here until I deem you trustworthy enough to run some errands by yourself.

You will receive your own room in the West Wing of the Manor, right next to mine, with a connecting door.

You will attend to Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner, and will do so without protest, lest you want to anger me. The Library is Open at any hour of the day for your use and education. There will be no teachers, nor tutors at your disposal since the threat of manipulation on your side is too great, and I don't want anyone to interfere in our business. The House Elves are at your disposal as well but will not obey any orders aiding in an escape or action that could harm you.

There will be more rules as the time comes, but until then you will obey those who were given to you. Or I will punish you.

Any Questions?"

Amarantha was livid. Amarantha was furious. How dare he think that he had any right to control any aspect of her life in such a dismissive manner.

She was her own person, and despite her young age, she knew how to handle herself and to stand up for herself.

Life at the Dursleys would have been impossible otherwise.

To even believe that she was going to quietly accept a life of imprisonment in fear of 'punishments' was ridiculous. She was Amarantha Potter, and she would fight until her last breath if it meant she could enjoy even one second of freedom.

"Fuck you, you asshole. How dare you think that what you're telling me is okay? What the Fucking FUCK makes you think that I will mindlessly obey any of those stupid and Controlling Orders? I won't obey you, even if it fucking kills me, and I will defy you until the end. Do you understand?"

The fury on the Dark Lord's face would have been hilarious if he hadn't immediately caught her head by the chin and forced her to look into his furious, blood red eyes.

"Listen here, little girl, I will explain this more plainly for your simple-minded brain to understand.

You will Obey every single order I give you, or you can kiss your freedom, and your past goodbye. If you are good, I will allow you generously to send one letter a month to a person of your choice. If you do better, it will be one letter a month to each person you care about. If you do bad, you will still be able to send the letters, but they will come back unopened and unread because there will be no one to even set eyes on them as they will be dead. Do you understand?"

His eyes were glowing now, and Amara felt the blood drain from her face, and she could see Hermione with her nose between the yellowed pages of a book, Ron with a victorious grin after winning yet another round of magical chess, the twins whispering to each other, plotting and planning against the world. Luna, Neville, Sirius, Remus, The Weasley's, Dobbie. Even Snape.

There were tears gathering in the corner of her eyes, the anger, the fear and hopelessness causing them to fall down her cheeks and her face. She couldn't bear to think of their deaths, couldn't bear to think that she might be the one to cause them, so she nodded and tried not to feel the humiliation when a lazy satisfaction entered her arch enemies' eyes.

"Do You understand me, dear? Say it out loud, I want to hear it." Amara felt like she was about to hyperventilate, but still, she looked into his eyes, determined not to lower them for anything in the world. Though this was humiliating, she would take it all if it meant her loved ones could live.

"I do. I understand, Voldemort."

"Good girl. Now, follow me, and I will bring you to your room."

It was around 5 O'clock in the afternoon when she heard a knock on the connecting door to Voldemort's ("Call me Marvolo, only followers are required to call me by my title. You, however, are too special to be held to this rule.") room.

Without waiting for an answer, the Dark Lord opened the door but stayed at its frame.

"Amarantha, Dinner will be served at 6 on the dot. I don't tolerate any form of lateness. Be sure to be there on time."

"Yes, Marvolo." Though her voice wasn't rude, it wasn't as meek as he would have liked, she could tell. But She hadn't insulted him, and it was her first day in this nightmare, so he let it slide.

He left soon after that, taking her anger with him.

The room the elves had prepared for her was magnificent and spacious, the tall windows allowing a generous view of the Garden and the surrounding forests. It was magical, obviously, but despite the luxury of the decorations and the high quality of the furniture, she felt sad and empty.

The colours of the room, though slightly impersonal, were very calming. The crème walls complimented well with the dark wooden furniture and the soft yellow colour of her bedsheets and carpets were beyond pretty. It was all very... ladylike.

With the graceful Paintings (Thankfully unmoving), the shelves lined with ancient or expensive books, and a wardrobe filled to the brim with dresses, shirts and skirts, this room could have belonged to an elegant pureblood heiress and Amara would have believed it.

The only things that marked this room as hers, was the broomholder in the corner, which proudly displayed her firebolt, the birdstand, where Hedwig was carefully preening her snow-white feathers, and the empty second-hand trunk that she had opened hours prior.

Marvolo had actually gone through the trouble of kidnapping her and taking her belongings at the same time. Probably not out of the goodness of his non-existent heart, but to show her that he was willing to do her favours if she behaved well.

And despite being at the mercy of this psychopath for the time being (she didn't doubt that she'd be able to escape one of these days), Amara still felt grateful.

The fact that the could still look at the pictures of her loving parents in this moment of darkness, felt like the light that may help her get through this ordeal.

That, and Hedwig of course. As if she read her mind, the owl took flight and landed on the outstretched arm of her mistress, talons digging into the naked skin of the uncovered appendage.

"I don't know what to do Hedwig… I feel like, if I take a wrong turn, I could either change or die. I don't want either. I just want to be left alone. With you and our friends. How can this be too much to ask for? I'm just Amara." The owl hooted softly, and the girl felt instantly a little better.

At least she wasn't alone in this.

After a last sweep of the room, she called a house elf, an adorable female called Finny, and asked her to store her empty trunk somewhere safe. The elf, surprised by the witch's kindness, burst into tears in a true elvish fashion and proceeded to pop away to obey her new favourite mistress.

Another Elf appeared as it was nearing Dinner time and gave her a note from Marvolo.

Dress appropriately, a simple dress or blouse/skirt ensemble will suffice. Dinner is not an affair of jeans and T-Shirts.

M.

Sighing, Amara chose a simple, baby blue dress that didn't look too fancy or lazy and took a quick shower. After dressing, and asking Finny to dry her hair, she brushed them and resigned herself to dine with the Devil.

Marvolo looked bored when she entered the dining room, but he smiled at her mockingly when he was her. Though she felt that there was something wrong with the way he was looking at her, she simply sat in the offered chair (His left) and stared incredulously at the sheer amount of cutlery laid out before her.

Crystal glasses and silver cutlery, oh how Amara hated rich people.

"What is this supposed to be?" She asked, feeling entirely out of depth at this new development.

"Basic table etiquette, love. I thought I could give you a small lesson for future occasions." There was a smirk on his handsome face, and Amara felt the sudden desire to stab his red eyes out of their sockets with a silver fork.

"I hope you don't mind Marvolo, but if you seem insistent on addressing me with pet names, I will do the same. And for your information, I am well versed in this topic, and would request that this lesson is cancelled." After all, you don't set the table for your Aunt's and Uncle's more important dinner parties without having a clue about the right etiquette and manners.

There was some surprise on the older man's face, that soon vanished to show a small smile. It seems that she had pleased him in some manner.

"Very well. I will not object to your use of pet names if they are dignified, and will agree to cancel the lesson if you can eat this meal like a civilized person. If you cannot, not only will you have displeased me, but I will endeavour to find every single book explaining the British manners and table rules in this house and quiz you on them. Is that understood?" Marvolo levelled her with an amused stare, but Amara was too tired and hungry to fight with him, lest he take the food away as a punishment.

"Yes Marvolo, I understand."

"Good. Now, let's dine, shall we."

Dinner was an exhausting affair, the stiffness in her back from having sat with a straight back during the hour it took to go through all the 4 courses infuriating her further. The only saving grace was the exquisite quality of the food, that had come in an ample quantity.

Her right hand was trembling a bit by then, but she ignored it in lieu of excusing herself from the table.

Though he had asked her to stay behind and drink a cup of tea with him in the seating room after dinner, she had successfully managed to explain that it had been a rather exhausting day and that she wished to rest.

Knowing the rules, and applying them were different things, but she still managed to eat 'properly', if only to avoid Marvolo's unnecessary punishments.

She had appeared polite and quiet during the whole meal, Amara had barely kept herself from stabbing the Dark Lord in his hand, in his face or in his Chest every time he started a conversation with her.

He angered her beyond imagination, and his refusal to explain the previous words 'you are here because I want you to be. You're mine' was infuriating.

Amarantha hoped that she could keep her Evans temper in check until her escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter.  
> It's a bit long, and I'm sure full of mistakes, but, as long as I don't have a beta that won't change.  
> Would love to read a comment or two, that would make my day.  
> You can expect the second chapter at the end of the week.  
> Love,  
> Valery


	3. Chapter 2 -The Devil's Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara tries to get used to her living arrangements without losing herself completely, which isn't appreciated by her captor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so while I was writing this chapter, I realized just how OOC Marvolo is. Since this is my creation, and I'm going for something very specific, I don't particularly care, but just so you know: Marvolo is different in this story, he is an asshole with Amarantha because he doesn't know any better. For now.  
> She will gradually teach him how to treat her, how to be kind and so on.  
> It doesn't mean a rainbow will be shining out of his ass, he won't turn into a saint, and he certainly won't stop with the war.  
> Amara will for him, because of her abandonment issues, and her starvation for affection, just as he will for her for similar reasons.  
> Keep in mind that this is my first genuine story and that I look forward to any moderately helpful comments. Hate for no reason will not be accepted. Yes Amara is underage. Yes Tom Marvolo Riddle is older than her. Yes, they will engage in sexual activities before she reaches her majority. No, I am not encouraging anyone to do so. This is a pure work of fiction. That means: If you like the things I just told you, keep reading, no one is going to condemn you for it. If you don't like it, close the tab, forget this work has been published, and don't take any of the written things personally. Keep on with your life, and find another story that suits your tastes.  
> Thanks for 'hearing me out'  
> Have fun reading!
> 
> I don't own the fandom, or any or the characters.

* * *

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the Devil personified had attempted to spend any time with her, and despite feeling lonely for most of the time, Amara was grateful for any respite that was offered.

She spent her time exploring the manor, looking for any clues that might explain why she had been brought here if the Dark Lord didn't plan on executing her.

Though none of the books in the Library had been any help in that area, she had to admit that they were beyond interesting. Aside from the library, which had become one of her favourite places in the manor, since it exuded some sense of privacy, Amara genuinely enjoyed the Garden and its tasteful design. Though some places were very uniform and symmetrical, Amara found herself gravitating around the parts that were wild, covered in stubborn vines and magical flowers that climbed on the wooden columns of the white pavilion, consuming anything noteworthy in their path.

These were the times she felt nearly peaceful if it wasn't for the underlying nervousness of not being free to do whatever she wanted. And though she felt betrayed by herself whenever she reflected on it, she knew that it wouldn't take much for her to come to love such a calm environment in the lap of luxury. Here she was served 3 meals a day, was given access to tranquillity, books and her dear Hedwig. Here she had no obligations except for good behaviour. She was allowed to wear fitting clothes, to relax in the sun without having to work as a slave for an ungrateful couple and their overweight offspring.

But still, could she really allow herself to find peace here?

It was depressing to realize just how starved for a comfortable life she was. Well, she'd blame the Dursleys. After all, they had been the reason for her subpar childhood. Still, she resigned herself with the knowledge that despite their attempts to make her into the criminal they told everyone she was (St. Brutus School for the Incurably Criminal… Really?) Amara turned out pretty well.

Even though she had listened to talks that were supposed to discourage her like the famous "The girl is a Freak Dudders! Don't play with her or she will infect you with her freakishness" – one of her aunt's favourite sermons- Amara had always believed that she could be everything she wanted to. No matter how many floors she had to scrub, how many beatings she had to endure, and how many times Petunias would jealously shave her head to make people forget about the beauty of her niece, she would stand up, and proudly keep living, if only to spite her tormentors.

But still, sometimes, Amarantha found herself pondering the unusualness of a grown couple showing such hate and ill-intent to a child of their own blood. How could someone justify depriving any child nourishment and affection because of some 'freakishness'. It had to be a very sad existence.

And Amara was sad. Sad that, because of the sheer ignorance of her uncle, and the burning jealousy of her aunt, the witch had had a violent childhood. If she had been raised like a normal child - because Dudley was not normal, despite what his parents wanted to believe - she wouldn't struggle with many basic things, like affection and managing her anger to name a few.

Depression and Boredom were a very bad combination, Amara concluded after shaking herself out of her deep thoughts. Deciding to occupy her time with something more captivating than moping around, the petite witch stood up from her laying position on her bed to walk to her windowsill bench. The reflection in the window showed a thin, pale vision of a girl, her long black hair draped over her right shoulder, like a cascade of the darkest shadows. Her almond-shaped eyes, of a vibrant green colour, were angry, despite the melancholic thoughts that plagued her mind. She was always angry when she thought of her Childhood. Who wouldn't be, considering?

Now, even as a child, she had been blessed with the good genes her parents had – as one could see from the pictures in her photo album – which had irritated her aunt further. In an attempt to make her unattractive, the adult had decided to bestow her niece with the ugliest and baggiest clothes her overweight son owned. Many times, she tried to shave the girls head, to get rid of the dark tresses that invoked such envy in her, but every morning they had grown back.

Amarantha was aware of her beauty, but unlike that Greengrass girl, she refused to flaunt it or to use it to her advantage.

She had always believed that beauty was a quality that brought more negative experiences to the holder than good.

The slender witch sat down with a sigh, grabbed a book, and was about to resume reading where she had left off last time when there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Enter, please." There was only one person in this house that would think of knocking on the door. The elves had other ways of making their presence known.

There was a small creak, and the door swung open to reveal Marvolo, as she had predicted. He wore one of his open robes today, with black well-fitting slacks, and a white long-sleeved shirt. Just as formal as ever.

"Amarantha." He said her name with a weird undertone, one that made her turn around and raise her eyebrows at him.

"Yes, Marvolo? Can I help with something?" Her answer seemed to have shaken him out of some thoughts, and he sent his usual infuriating smirk at her. That didn't bode well. Every time he looked at her that way he came up with some strange ideas and punishments.

The last time he had made her look for all books that mentioned the word 'androgynous' in a specific area of the library. Thankfully, he had refrained from ordering her to look in the entire room. Amara would have likely died of old age before completing the task since the library was so large and took up almost a third of the manors space.

"No, I just came to see how you were doing. Can't have my favourite witch cooking up some escape plans, can I?" The teen bristled at the mocking tone, but instead of lashing out (she knew better), she breathed through her nose, counted to ten in Latin, and smiled stiffly at the Dark Wizard.

"Don't worry Marvolo, as long as you hold the threat of hurting my loved ones over my head, I will not attempt to escape. Besides, I know how and when to pick my fights."

He barked out a laugh, and strode over to where she was sitting, the same expression in his eyes she had seen at the first dinner she had attended in his house two weeks prior.

"Right you are love. Well, I won't bother you any longer, I just wanted to inform you that I will be spending more time here starting tomorrow and that I expect you to keep me company in the library or my office if I need you to." Just what she had dreaded. Entertaining the murderer of her parents… how quaint.

To be honest, she would rather kiss a troll than spend even a second voluntarily in his presence, but needs must, right?

Amara hadn't even seen it coming. The Dark Lord's face paled with rage, and before she could comprehend it, he had grabbed her right wrist and pulled her close to him again, just like the first time she awoke in this manor. The force of his tug was so strong that she let go of the book she had been holding until now and was pressed against his chest. Marvolo's other arm now circled her waist, both of his hands holding her body in a bruising grip.

"You will obey me love or suffer the consequences." He hissed in her ear, and she tried escaping his painful hold, but he was too strong.

She was afraid again. Amara feared what he would do next. She was right to.

Marvolo, instead of acknowledging that he was terrifying the teenage witch in his arms, saw her struggling as a show of defiance. So, he did the only thing he could think of to punish her without actively cursing her. The only thing that would match the offhanded comment his legimency had revealed from her mind, he bent down and crashed his lips against hers in a bruising kiss.

Teeth nipped at her lips, this kiss wasn't a kiss. It was a punishment. One that Amara felt as deep in her bones as the fright that filled her mind to the brim. It was full of tongues, anger and saliva. She felt faint and weak, because despite the pain in the small of her back from the bruising grip his hand on her, and the twinges from his teeth as they bit into her soft lips, there was an energy building up in her belly, one she couldn't recognize. Her knees buckled under her, but Marvolo was holding her tight enough to be some sort of support. But when she tasted blood on her tongue and realized that he had been so rough as to make her bleed, she gained back her senses. The brief pleasure that had come from this involuntary kiss still didn't change the fact that she didn't want it. And so, Amara did what she did best. She shut of her mind until the punishment was over, so as not to feel too bad after it was done.

Marvolo knew instantly that something was wrong when instead of struggling, his girl went limp in his arms. Then he tasted the blood on his tongue, and he knew it was his fault.

He didn't let go immediately, but he removed his lips from hers as soon as he had come to the realization that his vigour had hurt her. The dark lord looked in her eyes, attempted to use legimency to know what she was thinking but he encountered a mist as soon as he entered her mind. He wasn't really keen on breaking up her barrier and causing her any more pain, so he exited her mind quietly, so as not to provoke another argument between them.

Still, he couldn't really bring himself to regret it. She had brought it upon herself. And as he kept reminding her, there were always consequences for one's actions.

(Marvolo didn't realize in that moment, was that this action had set of a specific chain of events that would make him suffer the consequences too. After all, the rules of the gods didn't make exceptions, not even for handsome British dark lords.)

"Well, that was certainly better than a Troll could have ever managed. Don't you think so too, dear?" there was some amusement in his voice, and Marvolo stared at her fair face, the trembling, bruised lips, the red cheeks and the long, lowered eyelashes.

He let go then, and the girl fell to the floor with a thump, in a heap of limbs and dark tresses, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks as she tried to scramble away from him.

"No matter, I'm sure you will learn to appreciate it. I will see you at dinner."

With those parting words, Marvolo strode out of the room with long strides, and as soon as his tall silhouette had left her room and closed the door behind him, Amarantha broke into loud, heart-wrenching sobs, cursing his existence.

She felt dirty. She felt used. She felt ill. The only saving grace was that he had only wanted to kiss.

Had he taken everything her young body had to offer, Amara was sure she would have lost her mind.

She could only hope that he had no interest in her body and that if he did, she would either manage to escape or die before he took her.

She knew with certainty then, that her Beauty hadn't been gifted to her as a blessing, but as a curse.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. Marvolo observed the subdued girl directly, not bothering to hide his dark gaze from her eyes. Not that he needed to since she had stubbornly refused to even glance in his direction since they had sat down.

Amara wasn't even hungry, he noted with no small amount of worry. The aimless pushing of her food on the plate wasn't that unusual, but she had made no effort to even eat a bite. He wouldn't tolerate this behaviour under normal circumstances, but the paleness of her skin and the slight tremble of her lithe body made him refrain from giving her any orders.

She looked sick, to be honest. As if she was on the verge of a fever. But Marvolo figured that if she didn't tell him of her health the elves soon would.

Having lost his appetite, the wizard was about to excuse himself from the table, when a final glance in the direction of the girl told him that another scheme would be appropriate.

"Come with me, Amara. Let's have a drink before going to bed." She stood slowly, the white dress clinging to the chair in an artistic manner. She was a vision in white. He was glad that he found the other prophecy before his final plans for her destruction came to fruition.

"Yes Marvolo."

He took her arm in a soft grip, so different from the one that had left a rainbow of colours on her wrist and waist, that she was left wondering if he and the man that had bestowed the brutal kiss upon her lips only hours before were the same person.

Upon arriving in the darkly lit room, whose only source of light was the crackling fire roaring in the fireplace, the wizard led her to an elegant armchair, and he kissed her hand before asking her to sit.

From any other person, Amara would have taken it as a romantic gesture, but she knew him well enough that this was an automatic mechanism on how he treated women.

"I haven't found the time to ask you this, but I hope that the lifestyle here is to your liking?"

Amara smiled stiffly and nodded.

"It's been a long time since I was pampered like this. For an imprisonment it is very luxurious." Marvolo smiled slightly and called a house elf. The one that came was the newest addition to the household, the one he had purchased to be the personal elf of Amarantha as soon as she accepted her position. Finny was a bouncy little thing, very cheerful and already enamoured with her mistress.

"Bring the Cognac and the bottle of Rosé that was set to chill earlier." The creature popped away, and instead of returning, the desired drinks materialized on the small table separating the wizard and the witch.

Amara's small hands grabbed the bottle of wine, the tremble still prominent in her movements as if she was afraid someone would strike her. Marvolo realized that the kiss from earlier had scared her more than she let on. So there was an underlying fear of physical contact.

How bizarre.

"1926?" The teen's soft voice questioned, and the wizard poured some of the ichor-coloured alcohol into a snifter.

"Very good year. For the pickings and other things."

"David Attenborough was born that year."

"So was I."

She went silent, and he took the bottle from her hands, opened it, and filled the crystal glass to the middle. Silently nodding her thanks, she took the glass from his offering hand, and her fingers brushed against his.

Marvolo raised his eyes to look at her properly but was surprised to find a small blush covering most of her face. He had to admit, despite the sickly complexion she sported at this moment, she still was an exquisite beauty. Like a white rosebud, shortly before opening and revealing its true appeal to the world.

"Forgive me for seeming rude, but this is something I simply need to ask. Why are you so afraid of physical contact?"

The content of her glass, which she had been gingerly sipping only moments before, was covering him as soon as he finished his question.

Shocked at the audacity of the girl, he went to stand and punish her when he noticed that her pale skin looked like paper.

She was quick to jump to her feet, her small frame shaking now in anger, not in fear, and she looked positively captivating in her fury.

"Don't even think to presume that you can help or judge me, you piece of shit. A heartless bastard like you would be entirely incapable of understanding the feelings of a person like me. So keep your nose out of my business and leave me and my mind alone." At the end of her empowered words, he could see small glistening tears in the corner of her eyes and resigned himself with letting her be if he ever wanted any sort of peace in this household at all.

"Now, may I be excused, Marvolo?" The dark lord knew that she would be unbearable otherwise, so he nodded, and she spun around, her dress spinning at the sudden movement, and she stomped away. To find the comfort of her room no doubt.

As soon as soon as Amarantha entered her room, the tears she had been fighting to keep in flowed freely down her face.

She hated it here, she decided. No matter how much luxury or comfort a single man could offer her, no one could attempt to defile her mind or body without her express consent. A consent she had never giving to anyone.

Not to Dudley or Piers when they attempted to discover the female body by forcing her to the ground and touching places they had no right to.

Not Lockheart when he used the detentions to petrify her, undressing her, kissing and nipping at the skin he could reach.

No boy or man was ever going to make her feel that powerless again.

She would make sure of it, even if she died trying.

Sleep would have been easy to take him if it wasn't for the sounds of retching coming from the connecting room, and the hushed voice of a house-elf.

What on earth could have traumatized her so thoroughly that a simple kiss and a question made her vomit? She wasn't sick, his elves had been able to confirm that much.

No matter, he would find out soon enough. And when he did, he was going to extract revenge for her by doing what he did best.

Killing, maiming and torturing.

He looked forward to it already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, gals,
> 
> Here's the real second chapter. I know I said that I would update next weekend, but I was so excited that I just had to write more. A big thanks to all the readers that left me out of my mind with happiness. I'd love it if I could see more reviews though! I've decided. One chapter each Saturday and Sunday.  
> How does that sound? Fucking great I think!  
> Have a nice week,
> 
> Valery
> 
> PS: Pleaaaase I need a beta!


	4. Chapter 3 -The Devil's Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvolo tries to apologize to Amara, but it goes terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Harry Potter Franchise, or its Characters,

The house seemed cooler somehow. After the events of 'The Kiss' and 'the Fight' – as Amara had conveniently dubbed them in her head- her resentment for the adult wizard had grown exponentially She no longer tried to behave politely, or kindly towards the man, her actions nearly robotic in their execution.

When he would lean into her to scare some reaction out of her, she wouldn't move, speak or think.

The emotions seemed to leave her in those moments.

Instead of obeying his order of keeping him company, the young girl would seek out the peace and quiet of the various niches she had found all around the house. They would calm her racing her heart, and unstable belly because these days, she couldn't trust herself not to vomit or faint whenever something scared her too bad.

The nightmares had returned as well. Where she had suffered only one or two during a whole week, they now plagued her every night, the pictures of her bloodied and loved ones damaging her fragile mental state further than it already was.

Marvolo always pretended not to hear the retching or the sobbing coming from the neighbouring room, or when he actively acknowledged it, he comforted himself with the acceptance that she would come to him for potions if it got too bad.

Not that she trusted him with her health. He had only forced a dreamless-sleep potion down her throat once when she woke up in the middle of the night, her bow-shaped lips opened to a scream.

But even after that, she refused to speak to him. She would only nod her head at him, and nothing else.

She looked pale these days, too pale, Marvolo decided with a frown. He had tried to speak to her, to ask her what was wrong, only to get rejected each time by the frosty expression seen on her beautiful face.

Perhaps Lucius would be of help. After all, if there was someone who knew how to butter-up an infuriated female, it was the blonde pure-blood.

So that very afternoon, Marvolo informed the girl of his absence of the day and apparated to the manor of his life-long follower.

The elf that came to greet him was miserable, the Dark Lord concluded after a glance at the snivelling creature. Quite like Pettigrew, that one was.

§it looks just as repulsive and spineless as the human rat. §

§You read my mind dear one. Where Lucius? § Nagini was magnificent as she slithered across the floor to reach him, her green scales reflecting the daylight in a multitude of colours. He had been unable to take her with him to the Slytherin estate, as he had no wish to frighten his skittish intended further than she already was.

§The peacock is parading in front of his mate again. Their hatchling left to visit some friend of his. §

Marvolo nodded and walked with confident strides to the private sitting room the Malfoy couple preferred. Without knocking on the door, he sent a soft spell to open it, and sat down on a royal blue sofa with a tired sigh. "Lucius, how do you apologize to a teenage witch without offending her, or starting a premature courting process?"

The blond, that had tried not to choke on his tea, was staring confusedly at his lord who seemed very uncomfortable with that question.

"A teenage witch, my Lord?"

"Yes, a teenage witch."

"Around what age exactly?"

"15-16-ish"

"a young adult then. Without starting a courting process, and an apology. Narcissa?" The wife of the blond lord hummed in thought and stood up to walk to the tall window. Of course, there was nothing to see out there, except for the gardens that were filled to the brim with white and multi-coloured peacocks.

"A book perhaps?" As soon as the blond Lord saw the twitching of his master's right eye, he scrambled to his feet in a panic and laughed nervously when he was levelled with the red gaze.

"A young witch of that age would be very happy with any gift you would bestow her, my Lord."

Marvolo clicked his tongue in irritation and stood up as well, now aggravated that his plan of reconciliation with his girl would be delayed due to his follower's incompetence.

"My Lord, may I be so bold as to ask for her preference in books." There was a short silence and the dark wizard sighed.

"She is young, innocent in our ways and customs, and enjoys books about spell-crafting and defensive spells." Narcissa smiled, recognizing the wistful tone in her Lord's voice, and she allowed herself to hope for a second, that he would find the happiness he deserved in the witch of his choosing.

"Is she beautiful, my Lord?"

"Beyond comparison." Marvolo found himself lost to the thoughts of the creamy white skin, the dark hair and vibrant emerald coloured eyes that made the girl called Amarantha who she was.

There was a short silence once again, as Marvolo contemplated, and the Malfoys accepted the sheer importance such a harmless revelation has brought upon them. They looked at each other worriedly and decided to keep quiet on the matter until their Lord declared himself what he had planned for this mysterious witch.

It wouldn't do for the more demented followers (aka Bellatrix) to take action without their master's consent.

"Not tp appear bold my Lord, but I think a courting gift would be in order, especially since you said that she was unaware of our customs. A single flower or a bouquet perhaps" Narcissa's soft, poised voice broke through the quiet of the room, and Marvolo whirled around to sneer at her, only to realize that she was very sincere about her suggestion.

"Are you suggesting that I trick her into a courtship?" The blonde lady smirked and nodded.

"It wouldn't be the first time it happened my Lord. Lucius married me that way, so did countless others before us. It is the proper way of courting, my Lord. At least, that's what I think."

"Tricking a girl into a courtship…" Marvolo contemplated the idea in his mind, and he suddenly saw himself, facing an irate Amara struggling to accept the fact that she had naively agreed to consider marrying him. He knew that many people would think that wrong, but he was a dark lord, and if there was one thing they did well, it was getting people into giving in to their demands, knowingly or not.

Besides, Narcissa was right, tricking a spouse into marriage was a very old Slytherin tradition. And he wasn't one to go against his ancestors' customs.

Marvolo returned hours later to the manor he had sequestered his intended in, buzzing with malicious satisfaction and glee.

The girl was in the garden, the setting sun gifting its last sunrays to the bewitching adolescent that had fallen asleep in the pavilion. Of course, Marvolo had to stop for a minute to admire and appreciate the beauty but soon found himself with a hand to her shoulder, softly shaking her out of her slumber.

"Amara wake up, there is something I desire to show you." He tried to keep his voice calm and alluring, as he mostly did with her, but he couldn't keep the small amount of excitement that filled his rational mind. Her eyes opened, long eyelashes fluttering in confusion and post-sleep fatigue, and he found himself distracted once again, but this time out of concern. Though her sleeping face hadn't shown it, there were heavy bags under her eyes.

His hand moved up to her head, and the wizard caressed her cheek with a tenderness that would have made her blush if she wasn't so scared of him. Instead of appreciating the gesture, Amara slapped the offending hand away and leaned back to not be in such close vicinity of the man.

"I'm awake now." Marvolo sighed, squashing down the sliver of irritation that bubbled in his chest, and attempted to smile kindly at the girl. He smirked triumphantly instead. Body stiffening in exasperation, and fearful foreboding, Amara crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing more than a silk blouse, and a short tulle skirt. That was the least stylish outfit she had found in the ridiculously large closet but it still looked like it belonged in a princess's wardrobe.

"I can see that. Let me sit next to you please." Amara did, sliding down the bench to make some space for the tall man, and he lowered himself on a cushion with a predatory grace. Simple actions like these were always executed that way as if he was a feline confined in a man's body. The grace and the danger he could radiate at some occasions were all too great to ignore. The witch forced herself to remain still and radiate innocence, her girlish outfit helping more in that regard than she was happy about.

"I want to apologize for my actions. I shouldn't have touched you so intimately or asked such private questions about you without your permission. I beg you for forgiveness." His hand had found its way to her cheek again, the long fingers caressing the outline of her young face, and Amara felt her cheeks flush, her horror at her own reaction vibrating through her entire being. Though she might resent him for his entitled behaviour towards her, she couldn't deny the sheer handsomeness of the wizard that sat next to her, their knees brushing, with such an earnest look in his red eyes.

He looked just like an older version of the Diary's Tom Riddle, dark, seductive, confident, all broad shoulders, tall frame, high cheekbones and arched brows. Not to mention the aristocratic lips and nose.

His eyes were heavy-lidded as if he had been the one to awaken from a slumber, and she cursed him for his prettiness and herself for reacting in such an embarrassing manner.

While the hormonal part of her brain (called Amara) was fussing at the looks of the psychopath, the other part (called inner-Hermione) was contemplating the apology of the dark wizard. Why would such an entity as him, consider someone important enough in his eyes to give a heartfelt apology. Lord Voldemort was known for taking whatever he desired without caring for the aftermath and the chaos that ensued. So, if he deemed her so important that he wanted her pliant to his whims and satisfied with the lifestyle he had so generously allowed her until now, there was something he wanted from her. Something big.

But to find out what exactly it was, she had to lie in wait and analyse all the information that was available to her. Not ask him in his face. She knew by now that he didn't appreciate the bluntness she was prone to express herself with.

"I... why would you apologize to me. I am a prisoner under your mercy, it shouldn't matter to you if I like you or not." Marvolo reared back, as if slapped, shocked at the careless words that flowed from the teen's mouth. When his face took on the familiar expression of fury, Amara's fight-or-flight reflexes kicked in. She jumped to her feet before he could catch her with his violent grip again, and she ran all the way back to her room, panic fluttering in her chest like a frightened butterfly.

The run was long, and she cursed rich people for living in such spacious places, and herself for having allowed her body to grow lazy with faced with luxury. Not to mention the goddamn shoes, the small heels preventing her to run at the speed she preferred. The witch ran out of breath soon, and nearly burst into tears when she couldn't recognize the corridors leading to her rooms, but thankfully, she managed to find and enter her chambers before she could get too horribly lost. She slammed the door open, and immediately, without taking the time to catch her breath, moved one of the heavy armchairs in front of the door. Of course, a good blasting hex would do the job of opening it, but she took small pleasures and reassurances where they counted.

Had Amara taken the time to breathe before moving the chair, she would have noticed the other door, the one that connected her room with the devils. She also would have remembered that fact, that this was a magical house that obeyed to its master's orders and moods, and that nothing could keep him out of a room if he wanted to.

And when the tall silhouette violently slammed open the mentioned door, his heavy breathing the only thing that kept him from descending upon the girl. As if in a déja-vue, Amara jumped to her feet again, and ran for the window, determined to make the best of her situation.

A loud bang resonated through the room, as her unpractised wandless magic shattered the windows, the glass shards exploding outwards into the garden, and it was at that exact moment that Lord Voldemort felt the last remnants of his feelings die, as he saw the slender feminine body of Amarantha Potter jump out of the third-floor room.

* * *

Amarantha awoke to soft sounds of low murmurs, the deep male voices familiar in her ears though she couldn't pinpoint their owner, nor could she remember who she was in the first few seconds.

M… Marvolo? And Snape? What were they doing next to her as she slept? Suddenly, she didn't feel so good. Blurred images of her male hands holding her down as a tongue licked the inside of her thighs plagued her view behind her eyelids, and she started to fight against them. The delirious need to fight them off her body was all-consuming, and she felt so feverish with disgust that she started screaming, limbs hitting around without a target.

"My Lord, I need to put her back to sleep if we want her spine to heal correctly! Her erratic movements will only hinder the healing process!" Snape's muffled voice was getting louder, and after fighting with her demons for a bit more, Amara managed to open her eyes.

Lord Voldermort's face was pale in the candlelight, his elegant appearance and the crazed look in his eyes made him look fiercer than she had ever seen him be in her presence.

His hand was on hers, and Amara managed to stare at him questioningly through her fatigue.

"Potter, how in Morgana's name did you manage to hurt yourself so badly again!" Though it was silent, she heard the '100 points from Gryffindor for being a dunderhead.' Tears filled her eyes as she let the first inkling of familiarity wash over her in what felt an eternity. In the house, there was no sense of time, she only knew that the sun went up in the morning and that sun set in the evening. The only way for her to differentiate the different meal times was when finny would fetch her to lead her to the dining room.

"Professor Snape…" were the first words to leave her lips, and Marvolo leaned forward like a thirsty man in a desert. Though broken and scratchy, her voice was the most beautiful sound the dark lord had heard in many days.

After the initial shock of her attempted suicide -the stupid chit! –, worry over the broken body of his dearest treasure has consumed his existence.

She had nearly died in her arms, her last words dedicated to her deceased parents, a declaration of love and an apology for having been caught by her enemy.

It had all been rather dramatic, but the blood staining her red lips was far more important than his bruised pride at being called an enemy.

So, he ordered the inconsolable new house elf to fetch his best potion- and healing master, who had been in the middle of a cup of tea when the tearful creature had popped into his house in Spinner's End. The dour professor had come or course, robes billowing like a clinging shadow at the mention of the name of the injured.

The spy hadn't believed the elf concerning the identity of the patient, but as soon as he saw the broken and bleeding body of lily's daughter in the arms of his dark master, he knew that there were things that were better left unsaid and unasked, if the threatening and crazed look in the Dark Lords eyes was anything to go on.

The second shock that day had been the results of the advanced diagnostic charms, and its detailed description of the girl's previous physical injuries. The list was so long that it reached Severus' knee, and it was the second time that day that Marvolo felt such burning anger, this time joined by the stoic spy.

Together they did their best to restore the girl back to full health, mending the bones that had healed in the wrong way after being broken and pumping the young body full of nourishment and vitamin-rich potions that filled out her frame as it should, but they both knew that her chances of growing taller than 5ft3 were slim.  
Though they took a small satisfaction out of removing the various scars that covered her otherwise flawless skin.

With the remnant of her old physical injuries healed, the only things left to treat were the new ones.  
They mended her shattered spine, the concussion and the broken fingers. The bruising several organs had taken during the fall, as well as her right lung that had been pierced by a broken rib, were some of the most dangerous injuries, but they had easily restored them to their previous state.

The only thing left was for her to wake up.

And she did, screaming and kicking for them not to touch her, and if they both noticed that her hands were carefully placed in front of her crotch, neither of them chose to call her comment on it.

After all, the diagnose had proven most helpful in that regard, confirming her virginity to their eyes, but they knew there were other ways to violate a girl's body without penetration.

Snape felt entirely too uncomfortable and out of place when the girl's (Lily's daughter) green eyes filled up with relieved tears at the sight of him.  
No one had ever reacted to him that way, and the simple fact that she felt safe or familiar in his presence, proved alone by her refusal to let go of his arm as she hugged it with the force of a scared child, made Severus feel warm in his cold heart.

He had refrained from asking about the reason the Dark Lord had decided to care for the girl rather than kill her, but now it was all too clear why. The luxurious room, the care and attention he gifted her, it all hinted towards a courting.  
Amarantha Potter was no longer the Beacon of the Light, the would-be Saviour of the wizarding world. She was now the future wife of the Dark Lord, cursed to stay by His side until she provided him with her most precious treasure. An Heir.  
It was entirely inappropriate and blasphemous, but as Severus was not in the position to call his Lord out on it, he, in his desperation, made several attempts to hide the girl from the older wizard's view.

That didn't go well at all.

"Leave Severus. I will summon you when the necessity presents itself. You will not speak of this to anyone, not even your godson or his family. The presence of Amarantha will remain a secret until I deem otherwise."

Bowing to his Lord, the professor detached himself from the shaking witch with great care and strode out of the door, head held high, as he always did.  
But before he could leave the room, Voldemort spoke one last order that would have caused Severus to pale in fear if he hadn't been a spy for so many years.

"I will be hearing attentively to the gossip of society, and if I even hear a whisper concerning the girl's whereabouts, I will know who it was that started them, and I will find retribution. This is your last opportunity to show your allegiance,  _Snape_."

The greasy-haired wizard nodded his understanding and left.

Amarantha was so scared that her whole body shook like a leaf, her round green eyes glazed in terror as she took in the form of her captor. A captor who had been entirely too engrossed with her since she had awoken.

Marvolo smiled at the girl, his hand moving to grasp hers, all movements deliberately slow. It wouldn't do to scare her again and cause another incident so soon after the last one.

The atmosphere was tense, Marvolo was not, but he was very satisfied with holding the petite hand of his intended. The witch was concentrating on her breathing, the mental exercises preventing her from hyperventilating, and avoiding the wizard's eyes, as she cursed the spineless behaviour of her Potions professor. But no matter how much she resented him in the minutes after leaving, she knew subconsciously that it wasn't his fault that all this had happened.

"How long was I out for?"

"16 hours."

It was quiet after that, but only for a few minutes until she finally mustered the courage to look up at Marvolo's face, only to flush in embarrassment.

He was staring at her face like she held the answers to all the questions of the world, the longing and curious look so unfamiliar on his face that she was left gaping like a surprised fish.

"Can you stop looking at me like that please?" was all she could say in this situation, but she silently congratulated herself for the full sentence.

"Why?" was the simple response.

"Because it makes me uncomfortable." Voldemort snorted in amusement, and he leaned forward in his sitting position, his arm on his knee, hand supporting the handsome head.

"You are the first person who has the audacity of saying this to my face. And to answer your question, I won't. I will look at you until I don't want to anymore. "  
As usual, his words concerning her were confusing, and she didn't know how to react to such a bold statement.

"Why would you do that? It's not as if I'm so entertaining. I bet that your minions would be more than happy to oblige you if you need them for something."

Marvolo gifted her with a smile, full of white teeth that did nothing in the slightest to make her feel safer. It increased her worry.

"You're right. Hundreds of people will fall to their knees at my command, kiss and lick the floor if the fancy strikes me. All of them would share my bed, and do whatever I want them to if I asked. But you won't. You won't because, in all the ways that matter, you are my equal. Born to be and rule by my side, to command over legions of wizards and magical creatures. You are too important to worry yourself with the actions of peons."

"What do you mean by that? And why are you telling me this?" She was becoming more and more disturbed, and she didn't like the reverence in his tone at all. It made her want to hide from his eyes, from his hands, that had kept gently petting hers until this moment. He couldn't mean what she thought, no? It wasn't possible. He wasn't so much of a monster to consider something like this.

"It's simple. I've decided to enlighten you on some of the things that involve you, for the simple reason that I don't want to bother with calling the spy here again after you've attempted to take your life again. It's bothersome and tiring."

The tall man stood up and stepped closer to the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight when he sat down next to her covered legs.

"I took you from your muggle home because it was brought to my attention that you have something that belongs to me. Something that makes you irreplaceable. That means, that I will cease any attack on you because you have become too valuable to be destroyed by my revenge. After all, it wasn't your fault my body was disintegrated, and that I was left to scavenge for bodies until a year ago. No, all of this is because of your mother and Dumbledore. One has paid for her crimes, and the other remains alive and kicking. But no worries dear, that old manipulator will get what he deserves."

Amara sobbed in terror as the wizard leaned forward to whisper the last words in her right ear, soft breath tickling the side of her face, and she felt the goosebumps of disgust rise on her skin. He shushed her, his arms now circling her waist as he laid above her, all actions innocent except for the lips that brushed against her throat in a parody of a kiss. Salty tears filled her eyes and long elegant finger swept it away.

"Schhh… there's no need to be scared love. I won't touch you until you want me to. And you're safer here with me than with that beloved order of yours."

"I don't believe you."

"It doesn't matter. You will after this.

Tell me, love, what do you know about Horcruxes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, another chapter.  
> A lot happens in this one, and I'm not really sure about the development, but well, its something at least.  
> I've been a little anxious since yesterday, the bus I was in got into a car accident and I came home the most afraid I've been in my entire life.


	5. The Devil'S Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvolo finally explains why he took Amara from her home, and she realizes something that may change her outlook on the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I had some trouble with this one... not really feeling it... *glances awkwardly at the screen, and at my cat, who seems to hate me nowadays*
> 
> Whatever, I updated, so that's something.
> 
> I don't own anything or anyone, of the Harry Potter franchise.
> 
> I'll come back and correct it tomorrow, I'm too tired to do this right now, but I absolutely didn't want to be later on my self-appointed deadline that I already am, sooo...
> 
> Enjoy.

* * *

Finally, Amara thought, as she stared into the chiselled face of her captor, after a felt eternity of conflicts and incidents surrounding this very topic, she would find out why he had taken her from her summer residence. There was no time to feel relief, as he had started his explanation without waiting for her to catch up.

"There is a simple explanation to Horcruxes. They are slivers, or shards if you will, of a soul that are placed into an object of your choosing. That Sliver is broken off from the main part by murdering someone and going through the steps of a ritual. I won't go into the details, but I will give you a book on the topic if it should interest you."

Amara was appalled at the mere idea that something like this could exist and stared at the Dark Lords face, who was mere inches away from hers, breath tickling her chin.

"Why would someone do that? What is the purpose of this  _Horcrux_?" She asked because she was honestly curious. Even she knew that the soul was very important to a wizard or witch, and for the Dark Lord to consider the mere idea of being incomplete in one way or another was unfathomable.

Marvolo sighed and averted his eyes from hers, not out of shame, but because he was unsure if he should tell her all the specifics.  
He stared at the ornate ceiling, the contemplative silence strangely calming them both. Though Amara's thoughts were still jumbled after waking up so recently from the magical coma, and from the supposed attack from the adult man, she was relaxing slowly under the apparent calmness of the wizard. Thankfully he had decided to leave her be when she came close to having a cardiac arrest. Marvolo had simply rolled his eyes at the easily scared witch and rolled to his back though he kept one of her wrists in a loose grip. Not daring to test his limits, the adolescent had decided to be as still as possible.

"A Horcrux keeps you alive when you die. It may be some parody of the old immortality legends, but it's the best either side could offer me. When you die, by accident or not, the sliver of soul that had been put inside of a recipient remains on this plane, unlike the astral one you enter once life has left your body. And if murdering someone and cutting open an animal is a requirement I will gladly give it as many times as I can as long as I stay alive."

Amara slowly detangled her hand from his, and she sat up to take a good look at the mans face, who had returned to stare at her after his explanation. As if he was gouging her reactions to him, to the atrocities he had admitted to. As if it would paint him in a different light than the one she already had of him. Though he may have treated somewhat kindly during her stay at his house, he was still the murderer of her parents and the reason for most of the misery she had had to endure throughout her life.

"Why are you telling me this?" Marvolo looked torn, between amusement and exasperation.

"Don't you get it? Haven't you ever thought about your scar or the fact that you can sometimes sense my emotions when I want you to, see the things I do when I need you to? There's only one possible explanation for this."

The first inkling of doubt trickled into her mind like a small wave, and with each example he gave, that small wave turned into a flood, first soft but there, then strong and violent, and Amara was retching on the floor by the time she had realized what he meant.  
The mere idea was so disgusting, not just about him, but the knowledge that her body, which had always been a temple of purity for her, had been breached so long ago was nauseating.

She had never been alone in her body. Her hair (her father's hair), her eyes (her mother's eyes), her skin her limbs… none of it had ever been Amarantha Potter's. Not completely.

Never alone.

"Do you get it now, love? I own you. You've been mine since the day I marked you with that scar on your forehead since I declared you to be my equal in all things but age." Amara kept retching, a long-fingered hand on her back, smoothing circles into the bruised skin. Thankfully there was nothing that came out of her, so there was no mess made on the ornate carpet since she hadn't eaten in literally days.

Damn that creep and his tendency to approach her when she was at her most vulnerable. But since there was nothing she could really do, Amara resigned herself with the knowledge that he would always be there, outside and inside of her body, and that as long as she didn't find a way to get rid of this parasite that resided in her there was no way she could contradict him.

As she crawled away from him, towards the crackling logs in the fireplace, the yellow light the only thing that could really help her focus in this moment, she could hear the footsteps of the grown man that slowly followed her.

Marvolo knelt next to her after spending several minutes observing the face of the slender teen that looked otherworldly illuminated by the orange light.

He grabbed her by the forearms, pulling her upwards until her feet were flat on the ground and she stood on shaky legs. Taking pity on the trembling girl, the wizard sat in his favourite armchair and tugged until she fell into a heap of limbs on his spread thighs. It was easier to talk to her that way and being so close to her relaxed his tense muscles after having nervously awaited her awakening.

When Amara realized that Marvolo wanted her to sit on his lap, she could have died of embarrassment, but she decided to act graciously instead, so she simply sniffed indignantly and bristled at his amused huff.

(But secretly she thought about how nice it was to have someone that was willing to embrace her like this, shamelessly and passionately for something she didn't do anything for. To be accepted for something that was beyond her control, and if Amara closed her eyes for a second, she could imagine that the man liked her for being her, for being just Amara.)

"Are you strong enough to hear more or do you want to postpone this to another time when you feel less vulnerable." The witch nearly hissed at the subtle dig at her strength, and the raven-haired wizard smirked at the angered reaction of his intended.

Just as he had predicted, she leaned forward and looked at his eyes, nodding and he slid his hands from her hands to the small of her back.

Though there was no apparent reaction, the inner Amara sighed at the contact.

"I found out about you being mine when one of the Light came to me and gave this information willingly. "

Someone from the Light had gone to see Voldemort, to tell him information that could represent her imprisonment to a psychopath for the remainder of her life? Why? And most importantly,  _who_?  
Who, from the people that were meant to help her, to protect her, to teach her, would do something that betrayed the Order?

"Who was it?" There was a panicked edge to her voice, Marvolo mused, as the tremble intensified the harder she thought about the new revelation.  
As he enjoyed watching his little intended put the pieces of the puzzle together, he simply leaned down to the side of her face and breathed in the soft, lavender scent of her hair.  
"You know who it is love. You have all the clues that you need. Think hard and let them come together." He whispered, oddly pleased by the goosebumps his breath had caused on her skin.  
"If I knew I wouldn't have asked." Came the angry reply.  
He chuckled again, this time over the sensitive skin of her throat. Unable to resist, and unwilling too, Marvolo planted an open-mouthed kiss on the flesh, and the silent sigh the girl gave from her wasn't ignored.

As soon as he licked his lips, he nearly lost his control, the nectar of her skin proving to be a real temptation to the more animalistic urges that resided in the Dark Lords body.

"Say it, love."

Despite having been momentarily distracted by the unfamiliar sensations of having a warm mouth attached at her throat, Amara caught herself relatively quickly – too quickly in Marvolo's dismayed opinion – and thought about the whole situation.

There were many people that she trusted with her life, but not as many who had the access to such high-level-magic information. Even fewer who knew what had happened the night that Amara lost her parents.

In fact, there were about 6 people that knew her scar hurt when Voldemort was angry, or that it pulsated when he was happy. (Thinking about it, she reminded herself to ask him why it didn't hurt her any longer.)  
McGonagall, Sirius, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore and Snape were the only people that were aware of this.

McGonagall was immediately taken out of the equation, because… it just wasn't possible. Sirius as well, due to his undying loyalty to her and her parents, her best-friends too, obviously, as they hadn't been more than a year old themselves when all of this happened.

Snape and Dumbledore were the only people left, and despite wanting to blame the potions master for her fucked up life, she knew deep in her gut that it was the headmaster.

He had placed her on the doorstep of her tormentors on that cold November night, he had let the possessed Quirrell into the Castle, he had done nothing to warn her about the dangers of the wizarding world. He had never done anything to actively help, she realized, and this alone could have made a vindictive person like her hate him till the end of time, but he had betrayed her, while he smiled at her and called her  _'my dear Amara, my dear girl, my child'._

_He had betrayed her._

Albus Dumbledore had condemned his Saviour to a life of imprisonment at the hands of their enemy.

Marvolo knew as soon as the angry tears filled the girl's eyes, that she had come to the right conclusion. There was one single facial expression for thinking about Albus Dumbledore, and this one, the one of pure Rage, was the only one he would allow to show on her fair face when thinking about the old wizard.

"Tell me who it is." The Dark Lord whispered again, this time more sensual in her ear than she would have liked, and Amara could have screamed at the anger that tore inside of her chest like a caged animal.

"It was him."

"Yes… say the name. Taste it on your lips, let your mouth fill with the venom of rage, tell me the name." Voldemort closed his eyes, as he felt another tremble run along the slender form of the girl on his lap, this time for an entirely other reason than fear.

"It was Dumbledore."

Marvolo nearly moaned when he heard the name of his most hated enemy fall from the pink lips in such a hateful hiss, but instead of grabbing her by the thighs as he would have preferred – Though he was drowning in bliss, he wasn't so far gone to forget that his future wife was skittish- he settled on planting a firm kiss on the girls lips. Though she fought a little at the beginning, there was an underlying electricity between them than eventually lead her to sigh against his mouth, soft hands pressed against the clothed chest of the wizard.

"And what do you think of him now, little girl?" was the first thing that came out of the man's mouth after he had detached himself from her, in a last attempt to regain some control over his actions. He blamed the soul-bond that he was hesitant to tell her about.

The time would come, but she just wasn't ready yet.

"I think that I can't trust him. I think that I was stupid to believe him for all these years. I can't believe that he would sell me out without remorse."

Marvolo hummed, and smiled against the skin of the witch's collarbone, enjoying the warmth that radiated from her soft and pliant body.

"You're right, for once. But you do not need to judge yourself so harshly, especially since you don't know the depth and the severity of the old man's manipulation."

"Wait… what? There's more? How can there be more? And how can anything be possibly worse?" was the surprised shout that left Amara, as she scrambled back in shock.

Thankfully, Marvolo's hold on her was firm, though not painful, or she would have fallen to the floor. He tsked and pulled her closer again, this time his hands on her legs that spread around his to help her maintain some semblance of independence and balance.

"That you believed that he would stop at this is endearing, Amarantha." She didn't have the time to express her offence before the man cut her off.

"We have found records, detailing the interactions the Headmaster has had with various people of your trust. They have been paid for reasons that are despicable. The people implicated are the Matriarch of the Weasley Household: Molly as well as the youngest children Ronald and Ginevra. The others of their family are either innocent, unaware or outright refused to have anything to do with this. Hermione Granger received the same amount as the others, though she never spends any of the money. They, it seems, agreed to a deal, to keep you ignorant of our world, ways and traditions, as well as your powers, heritage and history. Arabella Figg signed a confidentiality contract, stating that she could only reveal certain information concerning your whereabouts and health to Dumbledore, this was recorded as the payment of a Life Debt. There was a specific clause that stated that she wouldn't go to any kind of authority if she saw you being mistreated in any way. The worse by far was the proof of your abuse. The Pigs were paid for doing what they did to you. For beating you, for starving you, for ensuring mistreatment."

Marvolo wasn't finished yet, she knew, but Amara couldn't bear to listen to a second longer. She attempted to lift her hands to cover her ears, to stop him from telling her more horrors, more truths that she had tried to ignore for so long.

Because she knew since the day Hagrid came to pick her up from the small Island in the middle of the sea, that something was wrong.  
The Dursleys had always had more money than Vernon was capable of making, the gaudy design of their house and fashion not inexpensive despite how they looked. She knew that something was fishy.  
That something didn't feel right with the looks Ron gave her, or with the disdain seen on Molly's face when the older witch thought she didn't see, or the jealousy in little gin's eyes.  
But still, Amara ignored, and closed her eyes to the truth for so long, in desperate need to belong somewhere, to be someone for someone, that her lies became her truth.

But Marvolo stopped her, and flipped her around in one clean motion so that her bruised back was pressed so tightly against the man's chest, that she could feel the edges of his muscles against the soft fabric of her black nightgown.  
His large hands reached out for hers, one catching and keeping two together, and as he pressed his lips against her ear to keep talking. His other hand caressed the side of her waist until it finally touched the soft expanse of her flat belly.  
Amarantha found herself enjoying the attention bestowed upon her aching body.

"You see now why I deemed it necessary to take you from the muggle's house. You weren't safe there. Dumbledore was willing to do anything for his version of the 'Greater Good', even have a child abused since childhood to be open to suggestions and starved for attention. He succeeded to some extent, but you are far more resilient than what he believed you would become. Every single year he tested you, to see to what limits he could stretch you, but each time you jumped back. If you hadn't, you would have been removed from the picture, and the other summer child, who has suffered a similar fate to yours may I add, though not to the same extent, would have suffered under the pressure of being the chosen one."

The whispers sounded dirtier when he said them in this position, as she was practically blind to his expressions, but could only feel the warmth of his body under hers. And still, she found herself reduced to a crying mess, truths affecting her more than they should like someone was stabbing her in the gut repeatedly without forgetting to twist the knife in each direction before the next stab.

But she knew that she had to listen. Because she would never talk to herself about it, she would never take the time by herself to think about this topic without breaking into a ferocious anger.

And still, he didn't stop.

He kept speaking, words of respect, admiration and promises entering her jumbled mess of a mind.

"You know that with me, you are safe because I am the only person who understands. I am the only person who won't mistreat you, who won't beat you with fist, curses or words, and the only one who won't use you if the opportunity presents itself. I will protect you, and I will cherish you and love you as much as I can because you are a part of me."

With her mind already weakened by her own calculations of the headmaster's manipulations, the planted suggestions and promises of the Dark Lord were easily absorbed by her affection-starved psyche.

And Amara said the one thing she would come to regret in the following in the following hours.

"Show me proof, Marvolo. Give me the legitimate, original proof, and I will believe you."

* * *

Time passed quickly after that, the house having returned to its original quiet. Marvolo brought Nagini back to the manor, after having prepared the girl for the snake's impertinence first, of course.

The reptile found itself spending much of its free time with the girl, who seemed to have wilted like a flower after having been told about the betrayal of her loved ones. The only saving grace was that many remained innocent in this scheme, like Amara's beloved godfather Sirius, or his husband Remus.

The witch was sad all the time and would only regain some of her fire when in the company of her captor, his snake or the elf he had given her. Even that blasted owl couldn't change anything.

Sometimes, Amara would sit pensively in the garden, looking as melancholic and lovely as Proserpina, and Marvolo found himself immensely enjoying this demure side of her.  
So much in fact, that he put the second part of his plan in Motion.

A week after having sent some of his most trusted (Lucius and Severus) to retrieve the necessary information, as he had only seen them during a legimency session with the potions teacher, the Dark Lord knocked on the door to his intended's room. It was a bright summer night, the moon illuminating the grounds with its silver rays.

After hearing the soft voice, that beckoned him closer, the man opened the door to reveal the figure of the petite girl, who was stretched into a rather dramatical position on the yellow, upholstered settee. The slender witch wore nothing more than a white dress, lovely and fitting with its long skirt that reached her down to her toes and the v-neckline. Though it was made of a see-through material, it remained modest and innocent in its simplicity.

Already used to his mannerism, Amara stretched her hand high into the hair without making the effort of standing up. The man caught it in his own and bowed down to press a kiss on the knuckles, to which she responded with a small smile.  
The wizard was beyond pleased by her civil reaction.

"Marvolo, is there something I can do for you?" She asked, trying to act normally near then man, when she would rather be somewhere on her own, contemplating just how fucked up her life was.

"It truly depends on you, love." Was the simple answer she was presented with, which was enough to make her curious. Slowly, but surely, she heaved herself up from her position, into sitting, and she frowned at the smouldering look the man gave her.

"What do you mean by that?"

Instead of elaborating, the wizard reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass bead. Instead of doing something with it, he grabbed her hand again and placed it into the middle of her palm.

"What is it?"

"To see what it can do, I'm going to have to ask you to come outside with me." Again vague, but more informative. It was possibly a magical artefact.

They walked together in silence until they reached the girl's favourite place of the outside, the pavilion.  
She sat first, then he next to her, and the man smiled as softly as he could when she sent a curious look his way.

The bead, which had started glowing weakly, lit up under the moonlight.  
It grew and grew until it was the size and shape of a bottle of wine, though it was clearer than the usual green or reddish glass. This was made entirely out of cut crystal, so elaborately decorated that Amarantha was afraid the delicate designs would shatter under her fingertips. Magical images of mermaids, unicorns, and phoenixes played on the glass, literally chasing each other merrily, sometimes waiving at the dumbfounded girl.

But more remarkably, inside the bottle, was a flower. It seemed to be made from emeralds, its shining, cut petals glinting softly in the light. It was when she saw that it was actually  _potted,_ as in, it grew in soil, that she realized that it was a real plant, not just an imitation of one.  
Face filled with girlish wonder, she turned to look at Marvolo and tell him of her findings, only to be faced by an expression on his handsome face that she had never expected to see there. Especially not when facing her.

Marvolo tried to hide his interest and anticipation, but as soon as the wonder was apparent on the depressed girl's face, he knew he had succeeded with the first task.

Courting was never easy, as one had to find the appropriate gift to bestow to the intended, and only when the feelings of acceptance were genuine, did the magic start working.

But those feelings Amarantha showed on her face, were more than genuine.

After all the trouble he had gone through to get his hands on that blasted flower, he was glad that its purpose was being fulfilled.

"Marvolo, this is absolutely beautiful! No, it's more than that! It's heartbreakingly stunning!" Had she nor cried all her sorrow away, her tears would have shown the emotion she felt at the sight of the delicate bloom.

"Consider it an apology for my behaviour from the previous weeks. I shouldn't have baited or treated you as I did. Do you accept the flower?" the witch looked touched, and Marvolo made another note for future references. Seems like no one ever bothered to apologize to her.

"Of course, I do! How could I refuse this in my right mind?"  
Part two was another success. The Intended had to express their acceptance in words.  
Marvolo smiled and noticed how Amarantha had blushed under the attention. Had she caught on to the fact that he had something else in mind with this present? No matter, as long as she was happy with it.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it."  
And part three required the intended to show gratitude towards the dominant partner.  
As soon as the last words had left her mouth, a golden thread appeared to drop from the moon, the fine line slithering between the bodies of the two magicals, to connect the man's heart with the back of her neck, and vice versa.

Only the Dark Lord took note of that fact since the adolescent was too busy observing the flora in the glass.

Marvolo reached into his pocket again, only to pull out a shrunken book on the proprieties of the flower. He handed it to the girl, who blushed under his heavy gaze, and she thanked him again for the generous gifts.

Despite seeming cold to the recent happening on the outside, Marvolo was losing the rest of his mind inside of his head, ecstasy at having succeeded at the first courting ritual elating him beyond comprehension.

The joy was so great in fact, that Marvolo decided in a split second that the girl wouldn't mind being kissed, despite not knowing why.

"Its been so long since someone took the time to active- "he didn't care one bit that she was in the middle of talking when his lips crashed passionately into hers. Voldemort's hands grabbed at the covered back of the witch, hand caressing the spine until it reached the small of her back.

His other hand was focused on the dark tresses that had been fixed into a messy, artistic bun when he had entered her room. He now ripped the silvers sticks from the mane, and it fell into a glossy cascade on her shoulder and spilt all over her back.

Though pleasantly surprised at his actions, they weren't exactly welcome, but Amara didn't bother struggling against him. He would get tired soon enough, he always did, and he would treat her normally afterwards.

It was hard, not showing some sort of attraction for this wizard, Amara thought, as Marvolo's grip around her waist tightened, and the hot lips travelled down her throat to bite into the exposed skin of her collarbones. She tried to hide the fact that she was growing tense under the attention, and not for the reasons she would have liked.

To be honest, fearing the man than lusting after him was easier said than done, especially since he made it so very hard to resist his advances. It was even harder when that hand was slowly but surely sliding down from the back to her sensitive hip, which was only covered by the flimsy fabric of her dress.

"Master! Mister Snappey is waiting for youse, Sir! Says that he has important informations sir!" interrupted the shrill voice of Finny, and Amara nearly collapsed in relief.

Two more seconds and she would have succumbed to her basic urges.

The relief was not permanent, especially not when she realized that the Lords eyes had turned compactly red in fury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's the fourth chapter.
> 
> I'm so tired I can barely see straight, and I'm hungry beyond imagination. Sorry for updating this one a day late, but I had to figure out some of the logistics behind the plot. If y'all see something you really don't like, or that is super-duper wrong, don't hesitate to point it out to me! I'm always open for some constructive criticism!  
> Thank you to all of the reviewers and readers that have blessed my week with happiness.  
> I'll update again in two days if everything goes well.  
> Bye!
> 
> Valery.


	6. The Devil's Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara and Marvolo start to feel the first changes of the Courting Magic.  
> Amara contemplates on her emotions, and she finally gets her hand on what Marvolo promised her, the proof of the Light's betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the Harry Potter Universe.

Sometimes, Amarantha couldn't help but wonder why some things happened to her. Why she had to live through so much bullshit. This situation was a fine example of her fucked up life.

She just wanted to go to sleep and curl up around the lovely flower Marvolo had gifted her, she thought as she ran after the irate wizard. It was rather difficult to move quickly in that dress, but she made do.

Especially, when she knew that if she couldn't catch up with the Dark Lord, he would do unmentionable things to her Portions Professor. Like torture him. Or kill him.

So it was with a renewed fervour that she bundled up the seams of her dress into her hands and ran faster with all her might.

"Marvolo! Please wait!" she tripped but managed to catch herself before falling to the ground, and she continued to chase him down the corridors and up the stairs to his study until she finally managed to catch up to him.

"Marvolo, please don't hurt him. Please!"

Infuriated, the man turned around mid-step, as he was about to open the door, but he grabbed the young girl by her arms just as she slammed into him.

"What? Don't want me to hurt your precious lover, do you?" Marvolo shook the girl softly, her head swaying back and forth from the power of his grip.

The audacity of the death eater, to intrude into the private time he enjoyed with his betrothed. The whole situation was made worse by the desperate pleas of the girl, who so deliciously trashed about in his firm grip.

"Marvolo please don-"He shook her again, this time more violently, and she gasped in shock as her whole body was pressed to his.  
She shivered in anticipation, already knowing that this would lead to something she wouldn't like, but his incensed expression and the glaze in the eyes of the furious wizard told her that he wouldn't really care, no matter how much she protested.

"If you'd rather spend the remainder of your time here with that greasy, bitter man in the dungeons, than I shall happily grant you that wish. And if you still insist on defying me on that matter, both of you will find yourselves resurrected as  _Inferi_  after I execute you."

Marvolo pushed her to the wall with such a force that Amara saw stars but before she could shout out her surprise, he strode over to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. His hands slid down her arms to rest on her hips and his face pressed against her collarbone, warm breath tickling against the exposed skin that was much too sensitive to the girl's liking.

Amara tensed up when his lips found their way to her throat, and she suppressed a pleased sigh at the contact. It just wouldn't do to show him just how much she secretly enjoyed his dominating behaviour. The man grabbed her thighs as he approached her further, and his pelvis found itself pushed so tightly against her that not even a sheet of paper could have fit between the two bodies.

Tears of pain threatened to fall from her eyes, due to the vice-like grip the older wizard had on her waist, long fingers digging aggressively into the soft skin. However, she found herself distracted from the pain, as it soon turned into a twisted pleasure. He kissed his way up her throat to her face, until his lips brushed against hers. This wasn't enough, he mentally decided, as he managed to get her toned legs to circle his waist, so he could slide one arm around her small form. One hand slithered up to hold her by the neck, the grip firm but not violent, with just enough pressure to make her body pliant under the subconscious display of power and dominance by the older wizard.

Amara sighed into the kiss, closing her eyes when the sight of the aroused read eyes became too much for her to bear. As brutal and rough this whole thing between them was, because the witch wasn't dense enough to believe that there was nothing going on, she found herself enjoying this more than was allowed.

Marvolo was a creep, but he wasn't the kind of crazy to just go around molesting teenage witches. He'd rather kill or torture them, than kiss and pet them in just the right way to make their protest die in their throat, like he did with her.

Unknown to the pair that was aggressively making out in the hallway, Severus Snape had heard the shouts and had come running to help the defenceless witch, only to find them in a passionate embrace that made the stoic man blush slightly.

Deciding that he would rather wait for his Lord in the study, the Potions master simply turned around and retreated back to the room as he tried to forget about the sight of the hitched dress and toned female thighs around the waist of the older man.

Marvolo was feeling more than a little aroused, the burning fury in his veins only serving as fuel to his already intense emotions, but he was still surprised by himself when his pelvis ground itself against the crotch of the girl, who sighed louder in response.

Pleased by her reaction, the Dark Lord swore himself that he would soon have her where he wanted her, welcoming and willing in his bed.

Had she not spoken in the very moment that this thought crossed his mind, he would have taken her right then against the wall, prepared or not, and their future selves would think back to this moment and feel nothing but relief at his restraint.

Amara managed to rip her lips away from his, despite the frim grip of his large hand around her throat and breathed a sigh of relief when the fog in her head cleared enough for her to form coherent sentences.

"Marvolo… I didn't ask you to spare him because of some feelings, romantic or otherwise… I asked you not to, because in this new life you have created for me, Snape is the only person I know from my old one. He is the only person that is truly familiar to me. That doesn't mean that I like him."

For a split second, Amara worried that he hadn't listened, as his lips found hers as soon ad the last word had left her mouth, but his kisses gradually lost their fervour, until he finally managed to let her go. The hand around her throat, that had tightened for a split second before removing itself entirely from her body, served to remind her that he held the power over her, and that he could have very well continued if he had wanted to.

Thankfully he hadn't, she thought as her legs slid down until her feet hit the ground.

It was silent for a moment, a great difference to when they had been passionately kissing minutes prior.

Marvolo sighed silently and rubbed his hand against his tired face. Courting a witch was proving itself to be very exhausting, but worth it. To lose his temper in such a way that he went to attack her in such a manner was not something he would do. Had it been any other witch, he'd have back handed her for the insolence without a second thought, but the courting magic had interfered before the idea entered his mind. It wouldn't allow him to hurt the intended. No matter the history between them.

"Amarantha… I am terribly ashamed. My behaviour was uncalled for, and I am deeply sorry for how I've treated you. I… shouldn't have touched you like that without your consent. Believe me when I say that I will try my best to not let my emotions get the best of me where it concerns you."

"It's not really okay but I accept your apology. But please don't hurt him. I know he made you angry but… please." She looked deliciously dishevelled, pouty lips red and swollen from his kisses, green eyes gleaming from the pleasure of their actions. If Amara kept looking at him with those eyes, it wouldn't be hard to spare Snape, he thought.

"That's the least I owe you. Severus will not die tonight. So mote it be." A flash of light bound the oath he made to the girl, and relieved tears filled those eyes. She gave a low sob of relief and leaned up unconsciously to kiss him on the cheek in thanks.

"Thank you."

"Please return to you room and consider resting. I will show you some things tomorrow that may prove to be taxing on you." The girl nodded, turned around and disappeared down the darkly lit hallway.

"That girl will be the death of me."

"the wine is exquisite, don't you think so too, Severus?" The Dark Lord was calmly sipping on the glass, red eyes observing with malicious satisfaction as the Professor trembled on the carpeted floor, suffering from nerve-wracking tremors after being cursed so thoroughly by the dark wizard.

Every time he made an effort to return to his feet, another  _Cruciatus_  would find its way to him, and that cycle repeated itself until Voldemort lost his interest in the game.

After standing up successfully, the dour man bowed in reverence to his Lord, who quietly motioned him to sit in the offered chair.

"My Lord, Lucius and I have completed the task you gave us. Here are the files that document everything that was discussed on our last meeting." He reached into his pocket and fished out a parcel, that went floating to the Lord with a simple wave of his hand.

It was shrunken, but when Marvolo engorged it to its rightful size, he was shocked by the magnitude of the box.

"This is more than what we discussed. What is the meaning of this Severus?"

"My source only knew of a fraction of the orders transgressions, My Lord. The goblins that Lord Malfoy paid to come upon the proof were more thorough than anticipated."  
"I can see that." Voldemort frowned, but his expression soon merged into one of satisfaction after having glanced upon the papers.

"Albus has been very naughty." A document was fished out of the parcel, the words  _Bank Statements of the Account 862_ noticeable on the front. The next paper was just a continuation of the previous document, but all the transactions of the account were listed in red.

"Very naughty indeed…" The joyous mood fled the room just after that, as this time, the Dark Lord had stumbled upon something that did not please him in the slightest.

_Betrothal Contract between Amarantha Leona Potter-Black and Ronald Billius Weasley._

"The Betrothal was signed and validated by Albus and Molly Weasley, who both acted as the guardians of the respective party. I didn't know of this, but it certainly explains why the matriarch was in possession of the vault key of Miss Potter. And why she felt entitled to withdraw more money during the school year and the time that the girl wasn't staying at her residence."

Severus was mentally prepared for the furious outburst from his Lord, but he was relieved that it wasn't directed at him. He probably wouldn't survive the night if he was punished more.

"A fucking betrothal!" As much as he felt elated after the successful initiation of their courting, the fact that there may be some competition out there, just waiting for the time to fill up his girl with his Weasley cock and take her riches from her made her angry beyond imagination.

The only saving grace in this whole situation was that she hadn't signed the contract themselves, or the Slytherin's Heir courting would have been rendered null and void when the consummation date had come.

Thankfully, their courting was valid, since Amara had willingly, even if unknowingly, participated in the first ritual as an emancipated witch.

He knew that Tournament had been good for something other than his resurrection.

"It doesn't matter. Recent events have rendered this Contract null and void. She will not be wed to the youngest Weasley son." He could have sounded less smug about it, but he retained the right to be satisfied by a successful plan. And if all went well, he anticipated a wedding to be held before the New Years Eve. Marvolo would bind Amara to himself, no matter what Albus had to say about it.

"Yes, My Lord."

If Severus had suspected that his Lord wanted something more than a prisoner in the adolescent witch, it was confirmed by His reaction to the contract. That He had decided to marry her instead didn't bode well for anyone, least of all the involved parties in the betrayal. Amarantha was like her mother in that regard, as soon as she sniffed out some treachery in the people she trusted, and discovered that they were well founded, she was able to cut them off from her life entirely. Like Lily had done with him.

When his Master dismissed him from his study and told him that he would be summoned when the need arose, Severus obeyed his commands without a second thought, as they were much more preoccupied with the safety of his Love's daughter.

Had he been a braver man, he would have stormed into Amara's room and saved her from her cruel fate. He would have hidden her in a faraway place, where Voldemort would never be able to find her.

Alas, Severus Snape wasn't that brave, and with a heavy heart, he left the Slytherin Manor.

When Amara returned to her room, the atmosphere felt oppressive, like a foreboding.  
Deciding not to think further of the matter, she went to complete her evening ritual of changing into one of the delicate nightgowns that were at her disposal and preparing herself for the night.

Today, however, that routine proved to be difficult to execute, since she couldn't help but remember the feeling of the strong hands stroking her skin, and the pressure of that skilled mouth on hers.

Sleep didn't claim her as quickly as she would have wanted.

Shifting once again under the sheets, she cursed the fact that Marvolo had taken so many liberties with her, though she couldn't force herself to hate him for it.

For a girl like her, who had always been rejected by her relatives, any kind of affection was welcome, even if it was by the hands of her captor.

And what lovely hands they were, when the slid down the length of her thighs, when they caressed her arms, her hair, in such a revering manner.

Argh, how frustrating. Was this arousal? Was this What Lavender and Parvati whispered about in the latest hours of the night, when they thought nobody would overhear them?

But Amara doubted that they had felt as desperate as she did now, warmth curling up in her belly at the mere thought of the wizard that had provoked it.

Aside from that, the fact that he had thought to apologize for his actions, seek repentance by giving her the loveliest of flowers-

The flower.

How could she have forgotten it?

Amara fell from her bed, limbs tangled in the sheets as she attempted to run down to the garden to collect the item that had been gifted to her just hours before.

That was until she remembered Finny.

"Finny? Can you please do me a favour?" She hadn't spoken the last word, when the elf popped into existence, eager and excited at the prospect of helping her mistress.

"Youse be calling, Missy Amara?" smiling at the happy creature, Amara leaned forward and patted the soft head.

"Yes, Finny. I forgot something in the Pavilion. It's a flower, encased in a crystal glass. I probably left it on the bench. I know that you're really busy, but I would really appreciate it if you could bring it to me."

"Of course, missy Amara, youse not need asking!" Not half a minute later, the crystal glass was safely tucked in her hands, delicate fingers wrapping around the encased flower lovingly.

Finny promptly excused herself and left to complete the preparations for the next day.

The witch walked over to the windowsill, enjoying the bright moonbeams that shone with their pale light on the equally pale skin of the girl. Smiling at the feeling of the restricted freedom this granted her, Amara placed the Flower - the strikingly beautiful Rose- next to an empty jewellery box, where it could absorb the moonlight.

After some more moments of contemplation, where she thought about the reasoning behind his apology, the witch slipped back under the covers, a soft smile illuminating her enchanting face.

But no matter how much she appreciated the gesture, there was definitely something weird going on with Marvolo. It didn't really matter in the end, she thought as she blew out the candle standing on her bedside table.

There was a price to pay for everything.  
What she had to pay for was unclear, but the teen would endure, would survive to see herself survive this. Whether she enjoyed his company or not.

* * *

"Amarantha, I would like you to accompany me to my study, there are some things that need to be in your knowledge." Marvolo wiped his mouth clean with a napkin, the extravagant meal consumed with much pleasure from both human inhabitants. The elves had outdone themselves today, the lunch meal consisting of the most delicious combination of filet mignon, buttered peas and grilled potatoes. Though it may not sound like much, the taste alone made up for the rather bland sight of the plates.

And Amara would eat anything given to her that was filling and complete. No one who had been starved to the point of malnutrition would ever think to throw away food from their plates.

"Does it have something to do with the things you told me the other day?" Her voice, calm and clear like a ringing bell, turned cold at the mere thought of the people. But she would give them the benefit of the doubt and managed to relax her rigid posture. She knew how it felt to be accused of doing something ( _Heir of Slytherin_  her mind unhelpfully supplied) and she knew how it felt not to be believed when she defended herself.

"It does. But let's finish the meal, we will continue this conversation later." The witch agreed silently and nodded at the man who was looking expectantly at her. When she didn't verbalize her agreement, Marvolo's eyes narrowed imperceptibly, and he threw her a tense smirk.

His hand, which had been curled around his cutlery, snapped up and grabbed her wrist with more force than she anticipated.

Grimacing in discomfort, Amara looked into the eyes of her captor, who despite being more civil than was warranted with her, would suffer from extreme mood swings that made her feel like she had been whiplashed.

She always had to be careful of how she spoke, how she acted, and she was forced to change her entire behaviour in a split second so that he wouldn't get too angry.

Amarantha didn't feel very much afraid of Marvolo - as he had shown himself surprisingly kind and forgiving with her since her unfortunate 'fall', and he had vowed on his magic that he wouldn't kill or harm her – but she knew from experience that it was better to keep a low profile with explosive tempered people than aggressively rebel against them.

There were other ways to show your displeasure.  
Aunt Petunia became aware of that fact after she hit her niece with a hot frying pan in the face. She most certainly hadn't anticipated the unfortunate death of her beloved budgerigar. There had been no more pets in Privet Drive Nr. 4 after that.

"What did I say about speaking up Amara?" his voice shook her back to reality, and she offered him a hesitant smile.

"I'm sorry Marvolo, I was simply deep in thought. I will not broach the subject again when we are eating."

The hand removed itself, but instead of completely vanishing, it took a detour and settled on her head, patting and caressing the inky curls of the adolescent.

"Good girl."

The meal carried on after that, though It was slightly tenser than before since she had unfortunately attracted his attention while they ate. Red eyes stared at her face and her throat for longer than she liked or felt comfortable with, but Dark Lords didn't care about the feelings of others.

Unbothered by the witch's discomfort, Voldemort levelled her with a stare that mirrored the one of a predator assessing its prey.  
Once again, he found himself marvelling about the beauty of his Horcrux. He liked beautiful things, so he stole them and made them his. It was no different with the girl.

She had blushed deliciously under his scrutiny, a pink tinge giving her otherwise pale skin another layer of attractiveness, and her eyes were lowered on the porcelain plate. Long eyelashes fluttered in the same rhythm as her erratic heartbeat, green eyes glazed, and suddenly he knew why she felt like this.

Memories of the previous night filled his mind, of the girl's sighs in his mouth, the taste of her on his tongue, the feel of her on his lips and hands. Toned thighs, ruffled hair, by Morgana she was  _succulent._  
Alas, it wasn't the time yet to claim her fully. He had to go further in the courting and had to appease her apparent nerves before he could do so, or she would never forgive him, and would forever hate him for something that was out of their control.

So Marvolo did the only thing he could in this situation, he rearranged his napkin over his thighs, to hide the erection his thoughts and the presence of the girl had provoked.

After they were finally finished eating, the flush on Amara had descended to her chest, and she was griping at the fabric of her green dress so tightly, her fingers turned white.

There was probably something wrong with her, to feel so attracted and aroused by such a vile man, but she relished in those emotions. Never had she felt something so intense, so all-consuming.  
She rubbed her thighs against each other, intent on expelling those dirty thoughts and the warmth curling in her belly from her mind.

They made their way up to the study, and Amara took the time to admire the new surroundings. He had never allowed her to enter the room before, and now she could understand why.

The tall walls were lined with bookshelves, and strong closets, all of whom were filled to near explosion with papers, books and magical artefacts. The desk was a massive piece of furniture, the wood cut and decorated with figures and swirls. Enchanted snakelike creatures slithered around the legs, and around the sturdy chair which looked more like a throne than Dumbledore's seat in the Great Hall.

But despite the small amount of chaos that reigned in the private domain of the Dark Lord, it was tidy and clean. The colours of the room were dark, all blacks and deep burgundy's, but it gave a masculine feeling to the study. It was so very Marvolo.

"Please take a seat." He conjured an Armchair with the flick of his wand, and in contrary to the general décor it was delicate and nearly cute in appearance, all white wood and powder pink upholstery.

"Thank you." He nodded, pleased that she had spoken instead of physically indicated her gratefulness, Marvolo sat on his throne-like seat and enjoyed the view of his most precious possession in perfect health and beauty like he wanted her.  
It was silent for a while, as he contemplated the next step in his plans for the girl, and he summoned the box of files his spy had brought him the day before.

"This box contains all the information I told you. It's the proof of how deep and how far the Order's betrayal runs. Sadly, the things I told you about were not all. It seems that the informant was either ignorant of many things or chose not to tell us the whole truth. But no matter, everything is here now."

Amara felt a shiver of fearful anticipation course through her body, but she steeled herself against the influx of information she was about to receive.

With hesitant hands, she took the heavy box and put it on the ground next to her trembling legs. The first paper she fished out from the top was a list of bank statements from the goblin bank, Gringotts. All the transactions made with her account were listed as red, as non-legal. A footnote explained that non-legal transactions could be undone and if that wasn't a relief. Amara wasn't one for senseless riches and luxuries, but this account was filled with the gold her parents had left her. It was one of the last things she had from them.

But as soon as she saw the name of the person who had illegally accessed her account, she gasped in shock, and her blood turned cold in her veins with the betrayal.

" _Mrs Weasley_?"  
"Mrs Weasley indeed."  
Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head, disbelieving.

"I know I imposed a lot on their family, but to steal from me? This has to be fake."  
Marvolo smirked at the attempted denial from his intended. This was all going better than he anticipated.

"Do you see the golden Gringotts seal?"  
"Yes. It's kinda hard to overlook." It truly was. The seal was printed on every single piece of paper that belonged to the list, and it was massive, round and golden. Like it was made to show the opulence of the goblin nation's wealth.

Voldemort chuckled lowly and took the sheet of paper from her cold hands.

"When the goblins put their seal on something it has to be a legitimate document. There is no way that they can put it on fake papers. It's not possible. Goblin Magic is curious like that, but I can assure you that there is no way this is fake. If you doubt me, I'll be glad to procure you some books on the subject."

The witch swallowed as he handed her back the paper. So, it was true. How could this be true? Mrs Weasley knew how important it was to her to be able to access her own money. To be independent.

But a small voice whispered in her head that she had known all along that something wasn't right. How it wasn't normal how the matriarch had had her vault key, how she had said that Dumbledore had given it to her. How it wasn't right that over time, the youngest children started receiving more lavish gifts from their mother. Not that she wished them to be poor, but the knowing glint in their eyes when they told her that their mother had come upon an inheritance was beyond sadistic. They found pleasure in deceiving her, in lying to her.

Amara could see that now.

Documents were read, all more incriminating than others, revealing who was involved in the mess that had been her life. Dumbledore, Shacklebolt, Moody, Hermione, Ron and Ginny. How so many people worked to bring her misery and ignorance together was unfathomable. Amara had always been sincere, always kind to her friends. There was no reason for this betrayal.

She felt sick to the core by the time she had read the whole box, the sky was dark outside the window, and to reflect her situation, the night was moonless. Hopeless.

And just as she thought that nothing she encountered in that blasted box could be worse for her, she stumbled upon the most incriminating of documents. A contract.

_Betrothal Contract between Amarantha Leona Potter-Black and Ronald Billius Weasley._

_The Guardians of Amarantha Leona Potter-Black – Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore - and of Ronald Billius Weasley – Molly Anne Weasley née Prewett-, agree with sound health, body and soul, that the mentioned parties are to be wed on the day the Submissive turns 16._

_Dominant: Ronald Billius Weasley_

_Submissive: Amarantha Leona Potter-Black._

_Upon the consummation of the vows, the Submissive's possessions, titles and royalties will be transferred to her husband, as well as the rights of the Submissive itself._

_Should the Submissive perish, all rights over the possessions, titles and royalties will remain with the Dominant. Should the Dominant Perish, ownership over the Submissive shall be transferred to the family of the Dominant._

_The Submissive will obey to her Dominant's commands and will accept each reward and punishment without fail._

_The union shall produce as many heirs as the Dominant wishes._

...

It went on and on, each line and stipulation more terrible than the other.  
She would have lost her right to Ron, would have lost all that was hers. Amara would have been nothing more than a brooding mare, a slave to his whims and pleasures.

At the of the document, 3 signatures could be seen. Dumbledore's, Mrs Weasley's and Ron's, all neat and tidy on their designated line.

Disgust made her fall to the ground, emptying the contents of her stomach on the carpet. The bile remained swollen in her throat, and the witch dry heaved. She collapsed next to the puddle of vomit, tears streaming down her eyes, feeling sick, feverish with the new knowledge which could never be erased from her brain.

Married. On her 16th birthday. Which would occur in exactly 3 weeks if her calculations were right.  
Though she had no real sense of time, she could feel the symptoms of her magical majority approaching. Though she would only become an adult in the eyes of the magical law on the even of her 17th birthday, her 16th would mean that her magical growth would stop and freeze.

Who wanted to get sold off, and married with 16? And to a jealous brat nonetheless.

She was brought out of her angry musings by a firm hand on her back, and a silent  _Evanesco._

Despite the cleaning charm, the disgust and the smell remained, and Amara sobbed her sorrow into her hands. Though it wasn't just because of sadness now. It was because she was angry. Angry at the Weasleys, angry at Dumbledore, angry at Voldemort, but the person she held the most in low regard, was herself. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have trusted so easily? She should have seen the signs. There were always signs.  
She had been raised to recognize the signs of deceit and ill intent. It was how she had survived for so many years under the 'Loving' care of the Dursleys. But she the teen had been so desperate for approval that she let herself be blinded by the false promise of friendship

 _Some Wizarding families are better than others._ For the first time since entering the Wizarding World, Amara wondered what would have happened if she had accepted Malfoy's hand.

"…mara. Amara" The soft whisper against her ear wasn't enough to distract her fully from her thoughts, but her red-rimmed eyes still fixated on the handsome face of the Dark Lord.

"Can you see now what I meant Amara? The Light isn't kind to people like us. They use our weaknesses, our mistakes against us. And their betrayal hurts more than anything else because you don't expect it from them. And when they are questioned about their reasons, they play innocent, and they always get out. If there is any side of this war that is back-stabbing and treacherous, it's the light. It's Dumbledore's side. Join me, my dear, and together we will make them pay for all of their crimes."

The whispers continued, honeyed words telling her just what she wanted to hear, just what she  _needed_ to hear, and Amarantha Potter found herself nodding, green eyes empty and glazed as she listened and let herself be seduced by the promises of the Dark Lord. And like so many people before her, she fell for it.

But in a moment of clarity, the life returned for a split second, and her hands reached for his collar. Desperate, and crying, she burrowed herself into his chest, seeking the warmth of the only person who had shown her control and discipline covered with presents, luxuries and affection.

The tear-streaked face turned up, and she looked into his red eyes, who looked at her face with a hungry fascination.

"Marvolo…" The feminine voice was desperate and small, and the whole frame of the girl shook. Voldemort slid to the ground, arms circling the quivering chest of the hysterical witch, and for a brief moment, he felt triumphant. The hope and the blind belief in the Light had disappeared.

What was left was a girl, facing the burdens thrown on her shoulders alone. A girl who could be moulded. A girl who would be moulded.

And the girl would no longer be just a girl, she would become a  _Queen_ , ferocious and magnificent under the tutelage of her King.

"What do you want Amara. Say it. Tell me what you desire, in the most profound darkness of your heart. Tell me, and your wish shall be granted."

The sobbed against him, the trembling more violent as she considered his proposal, and after a brief silence, she gasped when the hands tightened against the small of her back.

"Tell me." Was the order, and for the first time in her life Amarantha let go and obeyed without a second thought.

"Avenge me, my Lord. Prevent this wedding from trapping me, My Lord." She whispered, flinching when the Man laughed loudly into the air.

He laughed and laughed, but she knew that it wasn't meant to humiliate her. She used the time to stare into his handsome face, dimpled smile and gleaming, victorious eyes.

"I shall. I shall avenge you, I shall destroy your enemies. But everything has a price. What will your offering be I wonder."

The adolescent paled, but retained her serious demeanour, as she knew that what she said next would change her entire life.

And so, Amarantha Potter-Black took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was about to come.

"I will give you everything My Lord."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm finally back with a new chapter.
> 
> Ym holidays haven't been treating me well, my inspiration just disappeared like smoke in the wind, but I dunno, I felt like writing again, so here we are. I'll try to update again the next couple of days, but I won't make any promises. I don't want to disappoint you.
> 
> Aside from that, as some of you (yes, I'm talking about you TheShortMuffin07 :) ) have guessed correctly, this story is loosely (and I mean very loosely) based on Persephone's abduction into the underworld by her uncle Hades, who married her and stuff.  
> I feel a little weird about this chapter, as I get the feeling that nothing is really elaborate, or really good, but I do my best.  
> Marvolo, I've decided, is a creepy little bugger, but he really likes Amara and really wants to marry her. Like an excited kid with a new shiny toy, that will never get boring for him.  
> Amara is suffering from really bad mood swings, but its okay. Because she's been kidnapped, and she has an excuse for it.  
> To explain magical courting in this story: The Submissive will be showered with affection, tokens and reassurance from her or his chosen Dominant. When one take part in a courting, all of the rights remain with the person. As in, if Amara marries Marvolo, she will retain all her titles and blah.  
> The reason Marvolo and Amara are suddenly so horny for each other is that the courting magic is assuming that they have feelings for each other. So, starting from now, the story will contain much more m-rated scenes, because they won't be able to control themselves.
> 
> It's not really Amara's fault, but with time, she will rise above her bad experiences, and enjoy herself.
> 
> However, if she is given away due to a contract, the Magic will not accept it as an equal relationship, hence all the restrictions on her freedom in the Betrothal contract.  
> Purebloods more commonly have a verbal, recorded understanding of who will marry who in their families, and they don't forge contracts, because equality is a big thing in the Pure-blooded circles. Women, unless their family Law dictates otherwise, can inherit and rule their household by themselves. Same with men.
> 
> If y'all want me to add something to the story, are if you're just un/happy about the development, write me a comment, and I'll see what I can do.  
> The last thing, Amara slipped into calling Marvolo My Lord, because she feels just so mentally done that she needs some form of safety, and if having a master is one then she does what she can. But don't worry, Marvolo will stop her from continuing soon.
> 
> Love and Kisses,  
> Valery


	7. Chapter 6 - THe Devil's Servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara and Marvolo enjoy a moment of intimacy, and Lucius comes by for a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter.  
> Please read the AN at the end of the Chapter, it's kinda significant for those who haven't understood some aspects of this story.  
> Once again, don't forget to comment, or leave a Kudo (only for AO3), and tell me what you think. I'm open to ideas and suggestions! Have fun reading!
> 
> OH yeah, this Chapter contains Mentions of Smut and Frottage. Read at your own caution.

* * *

Amarantha's mind still reeled from the influx of information Marvolo had given her a few days prior. The disgust seemed to be permanent in her belly now, and she sometimes had to take a short break between actions to calm herself down. The knowledge of the Orders betrayal was still fresh in her mind, each movement and thought reminding her of the good times she had spent with those People.

How every one of those memories had been fake, to some extent. They had happened, but when you find out that your best friend, his mother and your mentor plotted together to ruin your life, it took the significance of them away. Instead of feeling happy when she thought of them, as she had been until a few days ago, the witch felt sick and angry.

The matter was worsened by herself. She blamed herself for the events that had unfolded during the last years. Had she been more guarded, more careful about whom she trusted, the betrayal wouldn't have hurt so bad, she thought. Amara had learned from a young age not to give herself completely to people, for they would only use her or discard her in the end. The hate and anger against her own self was reflected with voices, that haunted her every hour and minute of her days. Whisperings in the darkness, reminding her of her naivety, her blindness against the blatant manipulation. Shadowy hands against her throat that chocked her in the middle of the night, when the silence and solitude became almost too much to bear. Mocking laughs when she felt at her weakest, most vulnerable state.

The only way she had found to silence the thoughts and the voices, was to spend her time and fill her broken mind with other things.

One of those was Marvolo.

Instead of having to chase her down in the manor, Amara went out of her way to look for him. She spent more time than before at his side, talking to him, or just simply enjoying the company of the busy wizard. It was hard to do so, the day after he showed her the truth since the teen felt deeply embarrassed by her actions and words. Calling him 'My Lord' and promising her entire being to him was a very just excuse for feeling slightly mortified.  
Thankfully, he had known how to calm her nerves, as she had feared that he would start demanding outrageous things from her.

Voldemort had simply smiled at breakfast and told her not to worry. He would find the opportunity to make her tormentors and deceivers suffer, and that her payment would be discussed when the time came.

Unbeknownst to her, Marvolo planned to make her agree with the Bonding on the very day it was meant to take place. Her Oath would prevent her from going back on her word. Hopefully, he would have managed to have her willing by then, but he preferred to have a second plan in case not everything turned out the way he wanted.

He had also asked her not to address him by his magical title, as it wasn't her place or her obligation to do so. He would much rather have her calling him 'My Lord Husband' than simply 'My Lord'.

Combating the loneliness and her frayed nerves wasn't easy, but Marvolo certainly found a way to help her. Each day that they spend together, Amara found herself growing more attached to him. Her mental state wasn't helped by the rapidly approaching Birthday that would mark the day she was to marry the foolish boy. The Dark Lords numerous reassurances that nothing would happen, and that she was safe, weren't much help either. Though she found some part of herself trusting his relieving words, Amara was hesitant to believe him concerning this matter.

This whole situation was partly produced from her idiotic mistake to trust people and their empty words.

Marvolo wasn't pleased in the slightest. The delicate state the 15-year-old seemed to be constantly in could be appreciated of course - as it had the advantage of rendering her entirely susceptible to his influences - but the fact that her trust was nearly shattered to the point of disrepair left much to be desired for.

He needed her to trust him for the Courting to work.

So, her placated himself with giving her presents every single day, ranging from precious Jewellery to the sturdy mare in the stables.

Witches liked presents, he knew this from experience. And the surprise and satisfaction that illuminated her face each time he pleased her in some manner was truly gratifying.

And it served well to distract her from her worrying thoughts.

Amara felt appreciated for once the first time in her life. With Marvolo, nothing was about how she had defeated him as a mere babe, or how much wealth she had to her name, or how beautiful she was. Of course, there was the matter of the Horcrux, but when no one was looking, Amara thanked the heavens for giving her something that made her indirectly content.

Marvolo was charming to her all the time now, making her feel cherished and safe. He didn't try to hide his attraction, as he kissed her when he felt was appropriate (which was bordering on every hour now). She simply assumed that it was one form of payment he extracted from her, for the revenge she had begged him to grant her.  
Not that she minded terribly, of course. After all, Marvolo's dimpled confident smirk always made something do a flip in her belly. And he was so very skilled at it. Only a delusional person would mind the kisses.

Her abduction hadn't been as terrible as Amarantha expected. In fact, it almost felt like a blessing, now that she was aware of the deceit that ran deep in her supposed circle of trusted people, and that she was unsure of whom to trust.

Lord Voldemort sat on the white blanket, watching his fiancée stare into the clear, cloudless sky. He had insisted having his meal outside today, a week after he had proven to her how her high opinion and trust was misplaced in the order.  
She hadn't taken it well.  
The witch was subdued, though she sought him out far more often than before. That development pleased him to no end, as that fulfilled the second step in the courting, but other than that, things weren't well. At all.

Amarantha spent much of her time thinking, which would be good under any other circumstance. But it didn't suit him at all, especially since he knew that the carrier of his Horcrux was rotting from the inside out. She was so quiet now, preferring to sit motionlessly wherever she could, thinking about things that didn't make her feel any better. It was noticeable how her health deteriorated. She retained her loveliness, young and delicate, but other than that Amara looked tired, worn out, and most important of all, sad.

Marvolo didn't like to see her sad. He'd rather see the girl jump up in fury or fear, any kind of emotion except for this one. She looked dead sometimes, like a lifeless doll, green eyes wide and vacant, with an empty expression.

He knew that she was depressed. He didn't know what to do. The elves had been instructed to watch the girl attentively now, to alert him if she took the steps to hurt herself.  
He was sure that after she had become completely dependent on him, her state of mind would better.

"Is something the matter Marvolo?" the girl's soft voice pulled him out of his deep thoughts, her glowing eyes fixated on his handsome face. To distract her from the fact that he was undoubtedly pondering her situation, he took one of her delicate hands into his own and pressed his lips against the knuckles.

The giggled absentmindedly, and she turned to look at the field of plants that surrounded them. It was a truly beautiful sight, heart-breaking in its loveliness, as the colourful wildflowers and herbs swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.

It was a truly fetching summer, she decided, after a brief moment of pondering. A summer that was spent eating to her hearts content – Aunt petunia's shrieking briefly flashed into her mind and she tried not to cringe at the memory- and learning with a cold glass of lemonade about subjects she didn't know existed before.

She wasn't happy, by far, or healthy but she was content. And that was good enough for her.

Sensing that she was entering the darker parts of her mind, Marvolo pulled her into his lap, the surprised gasp of the witch like music in his ears as he bent over to press his lips softly against hers.

This had become a habit now, to his relief, as she never tried to pull away when he initiated the contact. Of course, Amara never went out of her way to instigate it, but that would come soon.

She sighed into his mouth, thoroughly enjoying the gentleness of his actions, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Satisfied, Marvolo suppressed a smirk, and he tipped her head over to allow him better access. How he adored having her in his arms, pliant and gentle like he had always imagined a wife of his to be.

Though the adolescent could sometimes be rude and borderline disrespectful, she would soon become as well-mannered and elegant as a Lady of her standing should be. Silently, he wondered about her Ladyships, and the number of heirs they would need to produce to split all the titles they shared between the two.

He was soon distracted by the delectably body who trembled so deliciously in his embrace, and he went back to the pleasurable task.

Not long after, they found themselves in a laying position, sharing brief and soft kisses when the mood struck him. The picknick was a success, he decided, as he looked at the content face of his intended, who had closed her eyes as she relaxed with the sounds of the chirping birds, rustling plants and screeching insects. Marvolo made a mental note to reward the elves, and their fast thinking when confronted with his last-minute plans. Especially that new elf, Finny, who was enamoured with the soon to be mistress of his household.

"Marvolo, why are you bothering with me? I mean, I can understand that you wish to have your Horcrux close at hand, but no there is no rule that says that I have to be comfortable for you to do so." Amara had opened her lovely eyes, but she averted them from his face, rosy lips pinched in discomfort. She looked nervous, and the Dark Lord realized that she was afraid of the answer.

He was about to reply when he heard the sound of rushed footsteps walking down the path that lead to their shared blanket.

As he was about to turn around and whip out his wand, the witch flinched in surprise, jumping on his lap and burrowing her face into the soft material of his shirt. Now burdened with the nearly non-existent weight of the girl, he waited for the assailant to arrive, but soon recognized the Aura of the person that was approaching.

"What brings you here, Lucius? Without summons no less." Marvolo's toned chest hid the witch from view, the only parts visible were the thin, pale arms embracing the Lord with desperation.

"My Lord, I am terribly sorry for the intrusion, but a matter of utmost importance has occurred. A matter that is very advantageous for the Cause." The elder Malfoy was hesitant to reveal more facts about the misbehaviour of one of his Lords most trusted in the presence of an unknown person.

It was bad enough that he had disrupted time of a courting couple, as the magical backlash could be quite violent if it had been done with ill intent, but it was made worse by the fact that it was his Lord's courting. Lucius was sure that, had he been someone else, he wouldn't have gone unharmed from the whole ordeal.

"Very well. Return to the Manor and wait for me in the Study, I will be there with you when I can."  
Quietly bowing before his Master, the blond Lord whirled around in a flurry of cobalt robes and exited the field in large steps.

He felt curious though, as any wizard would. The identity of the witch his Lord was insistent on bonding was a mystery to anyone who knew about the Courting - Which was but a select few - except for Severus, who seemed to know but kept his silence on the matter. It irked Lucius to no end that his old friend was unwilling to reveal at least a name.

He was, after all, always the first to know about such things.

Marvolo looked at the retreating figure of his favourite Lieutenant, a man who he had nearly raised during his service as a death eater. Abraxas Malfoy had been a vile man, useful, but disgusting in his quest for acceptance in his Lords eyes.

The then Lord of Malfoy had sacrificed his teenage son to the lifelong service, intent of having him marry his Lord and grant him the satisfaction of further riches and power.

He hadn't expected to be silently assassinated by a recently recruited Snape. He certainly hadn't tasted the Belladonna in his goblet of mead.

Turning back to the girl, whose death grip on his shirt had somewhat lessened in the absence of the blonde, he sighed subtly and gathered her tighter against him.

He hadn't forgotten her question.

"The truth is that I feel… enchanted by you. The Horcrux only helps matter, but there is this pull I feel, whenever I am in your presence. I felt it first when you were fourteen when you stood up to me so valiantly after my resurrection. I may have taken you without your consent, but rest assured that I did not do so with ill intent in mind."

"I-…" There were tears in her green eyes, threatening to fall at the charming words from the man she had hated since a very young age.

"I know that some of the things that I've done over the years are inexcusable, your parents' death is one of them, but I want, no I need you to know that nothing will ever deter me from caring for you."

The silence was deafening, the animals having vanished upon sensing the turbulent emotions from the wizarding pair in their midst.

Amara shuffled away or at least tried to, but Marvolo had anticipated her reaction, and for each movement to escape she attempted, the Dark Lord held her tighter. He knew of her abandonment issues. It was hard not to when she was so obvious about it. It was one of the reasons why she felt so miserable after learning of her Mentors deceit.

Panicking, Amara cried out in fear, but not because of him, but because of his words.  
She couldn't fall for something like this again, or she would never recover from it.

"Let me go, Marvolo, I cannot- "

"You cannot, but you will Amarantha! I will never let you go! You will always be mine, whether you accept it or not." She shuddered at the possessiveness in the tone of the man, whose hands gripped her hips with a delicious bruising pleasure.

"You cannot force me Marvolo! I can't do this!" Anger clouded his mind, fear at having the one person he knew with certainty step away from his life. It was in this moment that Marvolo realized that he had grown rather dependent on the girl.  
"Amarantha, I will never hurt you, I will never betray you! Why can't you understand that?"

"Why can't you understand that I can't trust you Marvolo? You may have given me the Oath to spare me of pain, suffering and death, but you have been the reason for much of those three things in my life! You cannot just expect me to erase those from my mind just because you treat me well!" For the first time in a week, Amara felt alive as she hissed those words at the man. He looked as shocked as she felt, ruby-red eyes wide at her angry and passionate outburst.

Though when he finally understood, his eyes softened, and his hand went to caress her cheek gently, a small hurting smile illuminating his handsome face.

"I am aware of my faults, Amarantha. I truly do not wish to see any harm come your way. So, I swear." The magic of the unconscious Oath evaluated his truthfulness and found it legitimate, thus the bright flash of magic that glowed around the wizard for a second.

Amara shook her head, unwilling to trust despite knowing that a magical Oath couldn't be faked.  
She refused to make herself vulnerable again.

The Dark Lord frowned at the negative response of the girl, the small hopeful smile slipping from his face like oil on water. Growling, he threw her to the ground and straddled her hips, their bodies so close that both could feel the heat from the other person through the thin fabrics of their summer attire.

The witch blushed at the contact, this being far bolder than any other thing Marvolo had done since attacking and nearly ravaging her against the corridor wall. It wasn't something she thought about often, as It had the uncomfortable consequence of leaving her flushed and squirming in her seat.  
But despite the situation – that made her feel too much like a deer cornered by a ravenous wolf – she looked straight into his eyes, fearless as she asked him her next question.

"If you care so much, then answer me this: Do you care for the bearer or the Horcrux more?" she spat out, aroused and angry at the same time.

Marvolo bend down and nudged her face to the side with one hand, fingering the pale, unmarked throat with more care than she had thought him capable of when this infuriated. He chuckled at the obscene shiver that coursed through her body when his palm covered the exposed skin easily, applying a tad bit of pressure that left her hotter than she was before.

Curse him!

"I care a great deal about you, Amarantha, or you wouldn't be here. Of course, the Horcrux plays a role in that, but I've come to appreciate the chaos you bring with you."

"What-?"

"Let me finish! I care about your silly appreciation for the fauna in the gardens, for your silent pride and your humbleness. I care about your fire, the hidden viciousness in your eyes whenever I say something that angers you. I care about you even when you're dead to the world, lost in your thoughts and hate. I even care about that small, insignificant way you touch your napkin at dinner, or how you talk with that bloody owl of yours. I care about you, Vessel of my Soul, more than you'd like to-"

Passionate lips crashed against his, inexperienced and soft in an attempt to drown out his words. Amara felt deeply moved, so much in fact, that she didn't want to hear another word.

Marvolo responded to the kiss with a feverish need, soon dominating it the exchange, as he flipped them around. The witch was spread out over his body, like an offering to the gods, white dress bundling up around her hips as her toned thighs spread around his waist. Though it was too soon for anything else, the dark Lord used the distraction to slide his hands from the swell of her buttocks to the small of her back, enticing a soft keen from her that made him freeze with the onslaught of sudden but nearly crippling arousal.

Seeming to realize just how bold her actions were, Amara sat up with a gasp, detaching herself from the wizard's mouth in mere seconds. Here face was flushed, and her lips swollen from the aggressive kiss that she had initiated.

"I'm sorry Marvolo, I didn't mean to do- "

" _ **Stop."**_

Confused, the girl let herself fall again from her near standing position, to look at the wizard whose suddenly unreadable, cold face was turned to the sky, narrowed eyes unseeing. The change into Parseltongue didn't faze her in the slightest as he had taken it upon himself to ease her into the language since the arrival of Nagini.

" _ **What?"**_

" _ **Don't apologize for something both of us clearly enjoyed."**_

His cutting words would have hurt her if she wasn't used to his sudden mood swings.

Amarantha went to stand up again when his hands flew from her throat and her back to rest on her two hips, bruising the delicate skin under the airy material of her summer dress.

" _ **Don't move."**_

" _ **Excuse me?"**_

" _ **I said don't move."**_

" _ **I don't understand."**_

" _ **That is rather obvious, but I implore you not to move if you do not wish to finish what you started."**_

Amarantha had to ponder and think of his answer for a short moment, and when she decided that she really didn't understand what he was talking about, she shifted to sit next to him. She shouldn't have.

Had Voldemort been a lesser man, he would have been ashamed of his body's reaction to the slip of the girl, but really, what man could resist such a delicious treat that unconsciously ground herself down on him as she desperately ravaged his willing mouth. It was only natural for a man like him, who thoroughly enjoyed the finer ways of life, to develop an erection. An erection that was pressed directly against the place he so wished he could fill, that was only separated from him through a thin pair of cotton panties.

"Oh."

"Yes Oh. If you have no wish to help me, which you are in no obligation of, I would recommend you stay like you are, and try not to move. Or you can remove yourself from my presence." Though he had not meant the words to be insulting, his concentration on not pouncing on the witch caused to them to make her flinch, sharp and cutting as they were.

"I really didn't mean to do that Marvolo. I mean, you were saying so many things to me, and I just couldn't bear to listen more, so I just…" She sniffled, as she realized the mistake she had made. How embarrassing. For the first time that she had initiated contact, she caused Marvolo to feel so pained.

"You just wanted me to shut up." He huffed in indignation, as she nodded. He hissed when the movement travelled down her body and shook against his straining bulge.

"Ah… don't do that please." Amara sniffed again, wiped her eyes with her hand, and stayed seated.

It was an uncomfortable experience. Marvolo laid tense under her, and she felt more and more aroused by the reaction his body had to hers, the evidence pressing against her crotch.  
It was difficult not to move when she had the need to either grind down harder to come closer to the feeling she knew would bring her satisfaction, or to run away and lock herself up in her room.

"Don't you think it would be better if I just left? I mean, I don't know how to help you, and I don't want to discomfort you further with my actions…" Marvolo remained silent for a little moment until he breathed out a laugh, and his upturned eyes gazed down to rest on her flushed face.

He knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't resist it. His hips ground up, straining budge pressing against the delicious warm heat of the girls sensitive crotch. Amara squealed at the unfamiliar, but beyond pleasurable feeling. It arose something deep inside her, something primal that felt like an animal, whose only occupation was to circle aimlessly, restlessly in its cage, waiting for an opening to escape.

The Dark Lord smirked, as he tried to hide just what that had done to his crumbling self-control, and the girl blushed harder after realizing the sort of wanton sound that had passed her lips.

"If you want to help me so bad, then put your hands on my chest and let me take the lead. I'll take good care of you, I promise that."

Amara was a good person. She wouldn't leave the man like that after having caused it in the first place. Once, in the Gryffindor common room, she had heard the quiet whispers of boys, exchanging stories about their bodies. They had talked about the very phenomenon that was currently underneath her, and how it hurt if it wasn't taken care of quickly.

It clearly did, if the pinched expression on Marvolo's face was anything to go on.

So, the teen did as instructed, and leaned forward to place her hands on his toned chest, flush spreading over the expanse of the face and down her neck.

He answered her actions with a grin, full of teeth and something she couldn't recognize, as his eyes gleamed in the bright light of the afternoon.

"Now, press yourself down on me, my dear, and let me take control. Don't worry, I won't bite you." She was vaguely reminded of the time she had awoken for the first day in captivity. She knew better than to respond how she had then.

The witch obeyed his commands, a silent gasp leaving her mouth as she felt a sharp tingle of pleasure shoot up her spine at the action.

He smiled again, though he was far more concentrated on grinding up, hard cock against the delicate, sweet flesh of the girl he was sure he would marry now.

"M-Marvolo…" The whisper sounded almost reverent, like a quiet prayer, and the wizard knew that instead of scaring her with his actions, it had endeared him more to her than he had calculated.

"Yess… say it, love. What is it?" the movements continued, soft and languished, as if they had the time of the world to chase their pleasure.

"I...It… It feels  _good_." The last word was almost a sob, the girl being overwhelmed by her, no doubt, first venture in the realm of carnal pleasure. Sweet and innocent as she was, not to mention busy, it was more than improbable that she had found the need or the time to explore herself.

"Does it? I'm glad to hear that. And it feels good for me too." It wasn't a lie. Though he wasn't buried deeply inside her like he wanted, this was the next best thing. She was above him, grinding down on his straining cock like a vixen, blushing and trembling like a doe. She repeated the move, gasping each time she pressed herself against him.

Her long hair had long fallen out of its messy braid, the wild curls tickling his face whenever she bent down too low.

Growing tired of the slow tempo, Marvolo sat up, and angled his hips to brush just against the girl's clit, and she cried out, pleasure building in both of their bellies.

His right hand, who had until now been holing the girls hip in a bruising grip, travelled down, though not by far as the was so petite, to rub against the sensitive pearl through the soft, white panties.

Voldemort nearly salivated when looking at the girl, long hair cascading down her back in a curtain of silk, pale glistening skin glowing like a beacon of light she was, rosy lips opened to let out rhythmic sobs, as he rutted against her.

It was delicious. She was delicious.

He had enough self-restraint not to penetrate her so early in the plan, but damn if he didn't want to bury himself in the little body of the pliant girl and fuck her against the blanket of their afternoon picknick.

He had taken his many shares of lovers to bed, both female and male, but none had ever made him feel as alive as she did, moaning his name in a sweet voice as his thumb rubbed her clit in circles.

She came suddenly, little spurts of squirt spraying through the undergarments and against his clothed cock, whimpering against his chest. He followed her soon after that with a growl, pressed as tightly to her body without removing her underwear or filling her up to the brim with his straining member.

It was silent after that, for a long while, as she slowly regained her breath and her composure after the high of an orgasm. Marvolo watched her attentively, looking for any trace of regret, which surprisingly enough, wasn't to be seen. Though the lovely flush hadn't disappeared yet.

She detached herself from him, quivering legs crawling slowly to create some space between them.

"Amarantha."

She flinched, though she tried to hide it, as she tried to calm her racing heart. She couldn't believe what she had done!

The teen had been brought to completion by the man who had murdered her parents, who had kidnapped her, who had tried to kill her more than once in her life.

But she couldn't bring herself to regret it.  
There was something that stopped her from doing so.

"Amarantha, please look at me." She remained stubborn, back facing him, and he sighed.  
"Fine then, we'll do it your way." The witch hadn't been prepared for the force by which he grabbed her, and she found herself pressed tight against him again, this time with no erection to influence their thoughts and behaviour.

What if he hadn't liked? What if she was too boring? What if she had been too presumptuous in her actions?

"I do not regret what just happened. In fact, I enjoyed it immensely. If I didn't know you better, I'd ask for an encore, but… I think that was enough excitement for one day." The girl sniffed and forced a watery chuckled out of her bruised throat.

"Marvolo, I'd really like to go to my room and spend some time alone, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Lucius is waiting for me in the study anyway. But we will talk about this after dinner. Or tomorrow if you like."

There was no way to refuse, so she simply nodded, stood up, rearranged her dress, and waited for him to do so as well.

Together, they walked towards the Manor and into the building, a tense but not uncomfortable silence serving as a barrier between them.

When they finally arrived in front of Amara's room, Marvolo kissed her one last time, teeth nipping playfully at her soft lips, and whispered her his goodbye.

"I will see you at Dinner."

She watched the tall figure disappear into another hallway, toned back proud and graceful, and she had to remind herself mentally not to think of the things that had happened during what was supposed to be a harmless meal.

But no matter how bold or unexpected this was, she found herself liking the feeling of arousal, and the memory of the hard body grinding and pressing itself into her soft one.

Deep in thought, Amara entered her room, cleaned herself up, and grabbed a book from one of the shelves to relax and distract herself on her favourite seat.

After what had happened, it wasn't probable that the voices would overpower her anytime soon.

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange observed her sister form the corner of her eyes, silently hating the beauty and poise the woman held herself with while doing something as silent as needlepoint.

Narcissa had married well, had aged well, and had found happiness. Unlike the dark-haired witch, she was loved by her stoic husband, who showered her with presents and luxuries one and a half decade after their wedding.

Rodolphus was absolutely vile, in comparison, disgracing himself by choosing male lovers instead of laying with his own wife.

But Bellatrix didn't really mind. She had her Lord's attention after all.

Not many could boast with sharing their Lord's bed, least of all more than once, but she certainly could. She was Lord Voldemort's dark Concubine, chosen for her aptness in the chambers as well as in the battlefield.

It was her life's greatest achievement.

But there was something that was bothering the witch, despite her pride in her unique position in the Inner Circle.

Her Lord hadn't asked her to assist him for pleasure since his attack on Azkaban, always narrowing his eyes or brushing past her entirely whenever she approached him. Nor had she been allowed to go on raids with her fellow Death Eaters, ever since she had nearly murdered her wretched cousin Sirius during the fiasco of the Ministry of Magic.

He seemed to be cross with her, why she couldn't understand, but she was convinced that there was a way to mend the situation.  
It was then that an idea jumped to life in her mind, and she could have cackled with victory, at its simplicity.

Narcissa, who was so loved and cherished by the pompous Malfoy Lord, was nearly always privy to the information her spouse stumbled upon. She had to know the reason for her Lord's abstinence. Besides, she was the younger of the two, and small siblings always had to obey their elders in one way or another.

The blond sister felt a shiver of foreboding course through her body, as the craziest of her siblings stared at her with a malicious smile. She nearly pricked her finger on the needle and vowed to be more attentive to the woman's behaviour.

"Cissa, dear?" She tried not to gulp in unease at the uncharacteristically sweet voice, the one her sister had always used to get Narcissa to do things when they were girls.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Our Lord has been absent lately. His residence is unreachable except for emergencies, and His Lordship rarely graces us with his presence. Since I, as the Dark Lords Concubine, have been otherwise occupied, it had slipped my mind until now to visit him myself. Are you aware of the reason for our Lords behaviour?"

The lady suppressed a sigh at her sister's question. Azkaban had deteriorated many things about the witch she was related to, not only restricted to her beauty and magic, but also to her mental health.

Before the destruction of their Lords body, Bella had indeed been considered to be a glorified whore of their Lord, but after His resurrection and the successful breakout of the wizarding prison, He hadn't spared her a second glance.

For a good reason, if the mans intent to Court was genuine. The magic wouldn't allow infidelity during the whole process anyway.

Bellatrix seemed to live her life in the past, refusing to admit that their Master had lost interest in her.

She did nothing else but follow Him, obsessively stalking from the shadows, and intimidate the new recruits into serving her, more than their Lord. She thought herself in the right, and the Lady's nostrils flared imperceptibly in a sudden bout of fury at the memory of what her sister had done the week prior.

"Sister, I gravely recommend you to cease your search for our Lord's whereabouts. He is very busy with the Plans to the cause and cannot find the time to entertain your nonsense." Narcissa had been tasked with keeping her sibling in line, by her Husband no less, since their Lord truly didn't need to bother with restraining and disciplining Bella's sickness. A hard hand was needed to control her, and if someone knew how to treat and manipulate the lunatic, it was her.

"How dare you speak to me that way! Narcissa, you should respect your betters!" Irritated, the Lestrange went to whip out her wand, deeming the blonds sentence worthy of a punishment only to realize that she had left it in her rooms. Her sister stared at her in thinly veiled disgust, delicate hands stopping in the middle of her stitching.

The Malfoy matriarch raised one perfect eyebrow, disdain now evident on her exquisite face, and Bellatrix flushed in indignation. She was lovelier than her sister, so why hadn't her Lord demanded her presence yet?

Huffing in anger, the dark-haired woman stomped out of the room with deplorable manners, to retrieve her wand so she could curse her sister appropriately.

If her own blood wasn't willing to help her, she would find a way of her own to entice her Lord back into her bed.  
She had rights after all.

* * *

Lucius stood and bowed as soon as his Master entered the study in large steps, irritation clear on the handsome face, and he cursed himself mentally once again for having interrupted his Lord during a Courting Session.  
Though it seemed that it had been successful after all, if the rumpled state of the Lord's clothes was anything to go on.

"Speak."

The Malfoy nodded, keeping his head respectfully lowered, as he took back the seat he had previously occupied. He handed his Lord the files that were related to the reports he was about to give.

"My Lord, Severus has been made aware of a sensitive information that he could only pass along in paper. He gave me these documents to pass on, as the Headmaster has been more attentive to his moves. Aside from that the Order has been more than active this summer. Alone in the past three weeks, they have managed to raid 7 out of our 15 safehouses. The children and the disciples of the Dark are scared, My Lord. They…"

Voldemort sat back, fingers thumbing through the documents while he listened to his firmest follower.  
The order of the Phoenix was proving itself to be stubborn, as they exterminated the Dark Creatures and Witch folk for their beliefs and orientation. It was a travesty, what Dumbledore had done to magic int the last century.

Children were taught nothing at Hogwarts, and when they graduated, the became unremarkable. 18 % of the students moved on to complete masteries, but the rest was beyond hope, preferring to work in menial positions at the ministry. Those who couldn't, mostly half-bloods and Muggleborns, returned to the Muggle world, without the education to find a proper job. It was, all in all, very advantageous for the Headmaster, who – only in public – preached about finding a proper place for their outcasts. If he had really tried to change society, Dumbledore, as the head of the Wizengamot and a member of the ICW, would have used his positions to promote and instate new laws to help them. He would have changed the curriculum of the ancient school to suit his ideas. But he hadn't.  
That was proof of his intentions enough.

When he heard the hesitation in the voice of the blond, his head snapped up, red eyes glowing in the room.

"They do not believe me fit to lead?"

"NO! My Lord, it is nothing like that. The people are scared, but they do not doubt your Leadership."

"Then what is it you came here to tell me? That the war is turning uglier by the second, that we are losing soldiers and members left and right? I am well aware of this fact Lucius, so if you have anything of importance to tell me, please get on with it!" his words ended with a shout, as he paced angrily across the furnished room.

The Malfoy nodded, aware of his Masters thin temper, and he hurried to get on with the next topic of importance.

"Mater, my wife's sister Bellatrix has been incontrollable as of late. Her behaviour has grown aggressive in all manners, she regularly attacks the younger recruits for non-justifiable reasons. Narcissa has told me, in full secrecy, that the woman has been like this ever since she was made aware that she… wasn't allowed to return to your bed."

Voldemort's eyes widened for a fraction, shock evident on his face at the news. And then he burst out laughing, loudly and uncontrollably, mocking and incredulous mirth reflected on his features.

"Are you telling me that the woman has acted in a manner not befitting of a Death Eater, just because I won't fuck her?"

"To sum it up… yes."

"And have you told the witch why that is?"

Lucius gulped, tense under the pressure of the ruby gaze.

"No, My Lord. The information you have graced us with has not left our minds or our lips. We vowed to uphold your honour, and that includes your Word… Marvolo." The Dark Lord smirked, aware that his follower had taken offense with the question.  
Rarely did the blond dare to call him by his given name, but when he did, he never meant it out of spite.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. What are you doing to alleviate the situation with Bellatrix?"

"We have sent our son away for the time being, for we fear her capabilities in such an irrational state of mind. As of now, she has been restricted to the east wing of the manor, and we have tried to limit her access to her wand as much as possible since the last incident."

The blond looked grave at the mention, face darkening with worry and anger. Marvolo was surprised at the passion shown on the fair face of his most faithful and felt more curious than he had during their conversation to this point. Waving his hand in a silent order, the angry wizard resumed his explanation.

"Bellatrix captured a recent recruit, a boy of the Silas line, and forced him into engaging into sexual activities. He wasn't left unharmed after whole ordeal. The boy lost the ability to walk."

"She raped someone and left the person disabled, and no one deemed it important enough to inform me right away? What is the- " His sentence was interrupted by a loud , blood-curdling scream, and the sound of breaking glass.

Instantly, both men jumped to their feet, surprised and on alert at the loud sound that had disrupted the quiet of the peaceful manor.

Marvolo ran out of the study, forcing himself to remain calm despite recognizing the voice that had shouted in agony.

_Amarantha!_

Another scream, this time filled with more anguish and pain than the one before, and he hurried, sprinting through the hallways, followed by the heavy footsteps of Lucius.

When the girl's room was finally in sight, he whipped out his wand from its desillusioned holster on his forearm, and barged in, the door already wide open.

The sight that greeted him was horrendous and made his blood freeze in his veins, and he would have gasped if he didn't have a better control over his body.

The well-lit room was chaotic, so different from its usual state of clean organization, and in the middle of it stood Bellatrix Lestrange, dressed in black leathers and latex, the figure-hugging attire unattractive on the gaunt and skeletal-like silhouette. In her arms, she held the object of his affections, Amarantha, who flailed helplessly in her attackers' hands.

She squeezed his girl with a force that made her bones crack, hand tugging violently at the long strands of black silky hair, snarling ferociously. Her other hand held a wand tightly between the thin digits, red glowing tip pressed against the soft skin of the girl's throat.

Amara sobbed, trembling in anger and hopelessness at the situation. If only she had her wand, she thought. If only she could defend herself.

Bellatrix hadn't yet realized that her Lord was present, so she kicked the girl in the back of her legs, sending her sprawling to the floor, cackling maliciously when she fell on the numerous glass shards with a loud cry of pain.

The adolescent witch cowered in fear of the pain that would surely follow, but instead, a soft hand lifted her up from the ground, deep voice in her ear whispering comforting words.

She was too weak to open her eyes, the blood loss from her previous injuries rendering her pretty much useless to defend herself. Not that she had succeeded on that front, as the wounds testified.

 

 

Lucius scurried to the side of the injured witch, recognizing her as soon as his eyes laid on her lovely, bruised face. The lightening bold shaped scar on her forehead was the biggest clue to her identity, but it wasn't the only one.

Amarantha Potter was bleeding out on the Dark Lords carpet, and if His enraged demeanour was anything to go on, he wouldn't want her dead.

The Malfoy gathered her into his arms, ignoring the stains her blood would leave on his expensive robes, and ran as quickly as he could to a vacant bedroom, knowing Voldemort would appreciate the privacy.

Once he had laid her on the bed, he called his personal house elf and instructed him to retrieve the potions that ware necessary for this situation as well as call the Inner Circles Potions Master and resident Healer. An eternal minute of anxious fretting passed, and the vials materialized on the bedside table.

The Death Eater proceeded to help her as best as he could as he waited for his old friend, shoving the Blood-Replenishers down her throat and massaging the Healing-Salves into the girl's open wounds.

 

Marvolo took a step forward, and sent a silent Cruciatus to the insane Lestrange, and it was her turn to fall into the deadly shards.  
Her screams sounded like music in his ears, and he sent more and more pain inducing curses her way, extracting revenge for having her hurt the girl he would marry.  
  
He had seen Lucius disappear with the witch in his arms, no doubt to heal her and give his Lord space to appropriately punish the Lestrange.

Her body shook, eyes rolling into the back of her head, and the Dark Lord remembered just how much he had missed tormenting the deserving.

And she deserved it.

But he realized soon after that that the Death Eater had found pleasure in the Crucio, and he removed it, leaving the wanton, panting witch writhing on the floor.

"Do you know what you have done, Bellatrix?" She looked ugly and old, her skin wrinkled and eyes sunken into their sockets.

"My Lord, I am none but yours. You chose me to be your concubine, to be your right hand when the time was right. The girl is nothing more than a passing fancy. I thought to remove her from your path before she could chain you to something you were not meant to." The rasping voice explained, and even in this state, she certain of her opinion.

Bellatrix Lestrange was convinced that she was right. Voldemort nodded and kneeled down to be closer to her. He summoned a glove, slipped it over his hand, and used that had to turn the witch's face to the side.

"Look at you, Bella. You were so enchanting, so powerful in your youth. That's why I took you, that why I fucked you. I didn't care about you. I still don't."

She looked stricken for a second, but she laughed hysterically soon after, rotten breath hitting her Lord in his face.  
He wrinkled his nose, disgusted, but continued speaking, for he knew that it was the only thing that could make her hurt.

"You're worthless now though. No power or prestige to speak of. If you had been pretty to look at it would have given you some points. But you're ghastly now. Old and damaged. The girl though. Amarantha, she is better than you. She is the vessel of my future heirs, of my soul. She has power, wealth, wit and more beauty than you can dream of. You are nothing, Bellatrix Lestrange."

It was then that she truly realized the meaning of his words, and she screamed in agony, yellow teeth on display and Marvolo stood up. He tilted his head to the side, observing her with lazy interest, and he smiled that dimpled grin that Bella had killed to see.  
  
"You have served me well over the years. I remove you from my service. _Morsmordre Tollere_." Voldemort's wand was pointed at the inconsolable woman, who, upon understanding the meaning of the words, had tried to scramble away from him. But there was no escape from what the had done.   
  
Bella's left forearm burned and sizzled, as the Dark Mark's ink returned to its master's wand. She was left screaming on the floor, scratching at the red skin. as she felt the loss of her Lord's magic.

Sending one last look her way, he smiled kindly and a green flash illuminated the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello People!
> 
> Here is another Chapter.  
> Hehehe, Marvolo and Amara are kissing under a tree~
> 
> Nah but for real, I hope you can all see the way the Courting magic is changing them slowly to suit their Partner. Marvolo does his best to sooth Amara, and she is starting to like him more for no reason at all. Beside that, they are staring to approach each other physically, which Amara is really NOT ready for.  
> Anyway, I hope you all like this new chapter, although I feel like too much happens in this one.  
> I realized in the middle of writing this one, that I made a really weird mistake with the dates.
> 
> For that reason alone, I edited the Prologue, so, any of you that want this to be logical and in a chronological order, please, go ahead and read it again.
> 
> For those who don't, here is a simple list of the things that happened.
> 
> 23rd of June: Amara is abducted and wakes up in Marvolo's Manor.
> 
> 9th of July: Marvolo punishes Amara for a thought, and she is reminded of her past Demons.
> 
> 11th of July: Marvolo seeks to apologize for his actions and causes her to jump out of a window.
> 
> 13th of July: Voldemort explains the reason for her stay in the Manor and lets her come to term with the fact that nothing is as she believed. Marvolo gives Amara the enchanted rose, and initiates the Courting
> 
> 14th of July: Amara attempts to save Severus, and later is proven just how far the Orders betrayal runs. She also finds out about the betrothal.
> 
> 20th of July: Events of this chapter. Amara makes out with Marvolo and is nearly murdered by Bellatrix.
> 
> Someone also pointed out to me (Thanks a lot QueenLyssa) that We don't really know until now what is happening with the Order. Trust me, we'll get there. But it's kinda pointless to write about them when they don't know yet that she's missing.
> 
> By the way, for those that didn't understand, Amara is 15 and will turn 16 in around 2 weeks. That is also the day she is supposed to marry ron, which, really huns, won't ever happen in my story.
> 
> Morsmordre Tollere: Remove the Dark Mark.  
> Have a nice week, y'all!
> 
> Valery.

**Author's Note:**

> I have some Ideas for this story and I'm super excited about it!  
> Please leave a comment, I'd really appreciate it.  
> I taught English to myself, so I'm aware that I make some mistakes, so I'd like it if you could point them out to me.  
> I'm looking for a beta reader, so, if anyone is volunteering, don't hesitate to send me a PM.


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